


Symmetry

by alluvion



Category: Dragon Age - All Media Types, Dragon Age: Asunder - Fandom, Dragon Age: Inquisition
Genre: Canon Divergence, Character Development, Colemance, Eventual Romance, F/M, Fluff, Missing Scenes, Platonic Romance, Slow Build, includes artwork
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2015-12-26
Updated: 2017-01-15
Packaged: 2018-05-09 10:48:09
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 12
Words: 70,739
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5537087
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/alluvion/pseuds/alluvion
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>A story that diverges based on a single premise: That the Inquisitor adores Cole and sees his value right from the start.</p>
<p>Changes spiral from there, from Cole's role in events to his relationships with other companions. All the missing scenes that should have happened.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

 

  


She loves him instantly.

It seems mad, but she meets him in her mind. Seeing him there isn't the same as seeing him outside herself, all light and shadow, depending only on her eyes. Her mind sees him from all angles, distorted like a dream. She gets a sense of him that she trusts implicitly. Kind, shy, genuine. He will protect her.

She follows him out of the nightmares Envy creates. He is a bright spot, running ahead, calming her with soft words.

She feels Envy's darkness and malice. It drips from the walls, oozes out of every brick the demon creates. Perhaps she could have beaten it on her own, but she would have been darker for it. Colder. Steeped in the poison.

She runs after Cole and feels light.

-

He appears in the war room and she stands between him and their weapons without a thought.

She could come up with a lie, a plausible reason why he would be here--well, maybe not plausible, but something, _anything_ \--but her brain just catches on the fact that he's _here._

He looks small, crouched on the table, curled in a ball. He promises to be tiny, unnoticed. He wants to help.

"Of _course_ , Cole," she says, and it's out of her mouth without even sparing a glance at her comrades.

When he leaves, they are furious. They act like she's enchanted, like she's been corrupted. A mage and a demon-- the oldest story in the book.

Cullen keeps his hand on the hilt of his sword now, and watches her with weary eyes. He's seen how this ends.

Cassandra chokes on her disgust and disappointment. She says nothing, but looks at Evie with a furious, accusing glare. 'Your foolishness will destroy everything I have fought for,' Evie reads in her eyes.

"He's _good_ ," she says to them, but she has no idea how to make them listen.

-

She takes him out in the field. Exploring, fighting, sealing rifts - it seems a better environment for others to relax around him. Or so she hopes.

Besides, there is work to be done.

"The sky cries out, sick tears and a sad song. They're pulled through, like spinning water down a drain. Sinking, screaming. If the rift is in the sky, do they fall to the ground or swim?"

" _Bloody frickin hell_ ," Sera says, "This is a joke, right? Please say this is a joke. There is no way you're serious about bringing that... _thing_." She keeps her bow half-drawn and steps gingerly around Cole, afraid to turn her back to him.

"He's staying," Evie insists bluntly. Anything else she says would go over with Sera about as well as a fart in a chantry. Well, _worse_... because it's Sera. She'd probably enjoy that.

Cassandra scoffs. "We shall see. You may vouch for him all you like, but he is still a demon. I won't hesitate for a second if he poses a threat."

"Yes," says Cole.

" _No_ ," says Evie.

Somehow, she thought this would be easier. 

-

Cole appears silently in The Iron Bull's blind spot during a fight, taking out an enemy and nearly having his head taken off by Bull's axe a moment later.

"You can't _do_ that, kid!" Bull grunts, heart pounding.

"I fold the fade, then step through. A silent snap, a stitch sewn through sheets of shimmering silk. Two separate sides pressed together, a path made between."

"Yeah, that's great," Bull huffs. "Freakin' demons."

He continues cleaving another pair of enemies in two, then stops and frowns. "Wait, can you teleport anywhere?"

"Only where I can see," Cole answers, demonstrating by gutting a caster up on the hillside who had been placing fire mines around them with something not quite approximating stealth.

"Huh. Well, that's still pretty useful," Bull mutters. Cole reappears at his side and Bull points at him with his axe. "Just don't try it near me again. Especially not in combat. It's creepy, and I won't be held responsible for any accidental decapitations or maimings that follow."

Cole's puzzled frown is visible under his hat. "Yes. That would be bad. I don't want to lose my head. ...Or my arms. _Or_ my legs."

"Yeah..." says Bull. "Glad we got that out of the way." He hefts his axe and stalks off to clear the rest of the camp with the air of someone shaking off a cold chill.

-

When they take a rest break near a waterfall, Solas approaches Evie with an intrigued expression.

"You are truly comfortable fighting alongside a spirit? I must confess, I am surprised. You did not seem particularly open to the idea of spirits loose in the world when we discussed it before."

"Not spirits in general, just Cole," she says. "I trust him."

"Heavy words. He made that strong of an impression?"

"Yes. He's kind and wants to help. And... it's hard to explain." She hesitates, unsure. "He was in my head, so I know him. I don't know how else to say it. He's good."

Solas frowns, but it's not the blank, confused frown she's expecting. "Hm. Not many would ...experience such insight."

"Meaning?" she asks cautiously.

"Nothing. I merely wish to express my praise that you are choosing your own path. It is a rarer thing than one would believe. You may, in fact, be worth watching."

"Thank you, I think," she says.

Backhanded or not, she thinks that may be the nicest thing Solas has ever said to her.

-

As tense as things are, Cole settles into their rhythm better than she would have expected.

If Cole were anyone else, the amount of animosity directed towards him would have resulted in constant eruptions. But Cole is _Cole_ , and he never snipes back. He stays kind and helpful and everyone's anger eventually just... deflates.

By the third day, the main source of tension is less the fact that he isn't human and more the fact that he keeps appearing randomly and giving everyone heart palpitations. Especially when he tries to be helpful.

Varric panics and drops his rabbit leg into the fire when Cole appears next to him holding the salt he was looking for. Cassandra nearly beheads him when he finds the the tent poles she needed. He tries to give Sera a piece of flint and ends up disappearing for an hour after she shrieks and throws it back at him, as well as a handful of other rocks and a nearby pinecone.

Overall, though, he fades into the background of their group so well that Evie begins to wonder how much of it is his personality and how much is, well... _him?_

-

When Evie was a child, she was fragile and fair-skinned. They dressed her up like a doll.

Her mother and grandmother would fuss, tying and untying ribbons in her pale hair, debating endlessly which colors suited her complexion best. They called her _delicate_ , _ethereal_ , _angelic_.

When her magic was discovered, it became _strange_ , _unsettling_ , _fade-touched_. She heard the cook as she walked past the kitchens-- _I always knew there was something wrong with that child_.

They packed her bag for the Tower in silence, her plain clothes folded into her suitcase and her dresses draped across her bed. When they were done, her closet was empty. They didn't look at her, but her mother and grandmother both stopped to touch their hands to her dresses as they passed, as though paying respects at a funeral.

The memory springs to mind as she runs her fingers along the gouge an arrow made across the side of her boot. Cole tilts his head.

"Ethereal, immaterial, illusory. The dresses were always false. They put you in a perfect part to play, but you made yourself more, moved on. You are real."

"It's just a boot," she agrees with a sigh.

"Yes. The arrow _could_ have gone through your leg," Cole adds brightly.

She looks over at him and laughs. "You're a strange one," she says with affection, and the corner of his lip turns up just the slightest bit.

-

Before the end of the week, Sera's furious calm cracks. She swears, a flurry of words that Evie can't even parse. They're in the Storm Coast, soggy with rain. A rogue wave catches against the cliffs and sprays them with seafoam and Sera _screams_ and stomps off down the coast.

"Sera, wait--!"

"Thought you were _smart_ ," she snarls, "Changing the world and all that rot, toy soldiers all lining up to follow-- But you get a _demon_ and you think it's _safe_ , following you 'round like some shadow and you're just cheery and sunshine like it ain't shit. _Friggin daft_ , that's what--"

The wind whips past, howling through them and drenching them with cold mist. Evie feels salty droplets rolling down her face like tears, and she shouts over the gale, " _Sera_ , wait! Don't leave!"

Sera turns to her and lets out one last roar of frustration. " _Who says I'm leaving?_ " Her lip is a snarl, but the volume is softer. "This'd be easier if I didn't give a toss, but instead you gotta be actual _people_ , 'stead of one of those lady-whatsits with breeches of spun gold using little people as footstools--"

"I...what?" By the tone, Evie feels as if she's being reprimanded, but the words aren't lining up.

Sera glares at her, clenching her jaw. "That _thing_ ," she says, her eyes flicking to Cole, "is bloody dangerous, and you're too blind to see it. So someone's gotta stick around and put an arrow through its eye when it tries something, yeah?"

"Sera, he--"

"Don't care. Done talking," she says, stomping off through the sand. "Need to shoot something. You want it to not be _that_ , then we'd better find a sodding bear or something, and quick."

-

In the end, it's Varric who surprises her the most. He's nothing more than a gentle chuckle beside the campfire. "I like him. He's interesting," he says and shrugs.

"That's it? Even if he's a demon?" Evie was expecting far worse, somehow.

"What? You thought it'd be torches and pitchforks across the board? Sorry to disappoint, Snowflake," he says. "I... like to think I'm a decent judge of character, and I think he means well. Not much more you can ask from people."

"Oh," she falters. "Thank you, Varric."

"Where'd the kid run off to, anyway?"

"He wanted to listen to the horses," Evie explains with a soft smile. "I thought I heard him singing to one."

Varric scrubs a hand over his face. "Yep. Terrifying demon, out to kill us while we sleep."

-

Once they finally secure horses for the Inquisition, they pack their bags to leave-- but not fast enough. Evie's cornered by a farmer with sad, desperate eyes and a missing Druffalo and she can't find it in her to say no.

Cassandra huffs and rolls her eyes.

Sera complains loudly the entire hike about boredom and menial labor.

"Can I just go take a nap, and you come find me when you have something for me to hit?" whines Bull.

Solas says nothing, but he says it very loudly.

Even Varric drags his feet at the prospect of crossing a stream and getting his boots wet.

Evie is tempted to give up entirely. She _knows_ , logically, that the Inquisition is bigger than this, that they have responsibilities that are far more important. This is beneath them.

But when she imagines looking into the farmer's hopeful face and telling him _no_ , she failed, she stopped looking, she doesn't have time for this - it feels like a kick to the stomach.

Her companions might think she's weak for not walking away, but she wants to do this. She needs to. She needs something small, something that makes sense, that she can _fix_ instead of this giant, looming hole in the sky.

She avoids looking anyone in the eye and swallows her urge to apologize. She does most of the work herding the mulish creature back herself, hoping to feel no more indebted for their patience than necessary.

When she returns it to the enclosure, she shakes the farmer's hand roughly, embarrassed, wanting to be on her way as quickly as possible. As she walks away though, Cole says. "I'm _glad_ we did that," with such earnestness she can't help but turn and stop to look at him.

"...Me, too," she replies softly, and she could hug him for the simple contentment on his face. She feels a weight lift as she returns his dopey grin.

"Yeah, yeah, we're nice people. Three cheers. Very touching," says Sera.

"He will no doubt spread a good word about the Inquisition at least," Cassandra agrees magnanimously.

"If he knows what's good for him, he'll fix his fence after this," grumbles Varric.

Evie keeps her eyes on Cole. His face is turned up for once, eyes obscured only by his fringe and not his hat. His soft smile shines like sunshine. _His opinion is the one that matters_ , she thinks, and feels the weight of something bigger lurking just around the corner of her mind.

"...Is anyone else craving steaks?" Bull asks, and the moment passes with a collective groan.

-

They meet Blackwall in the forest, training farmers. He's respectful and grizzly and wants to _save the fuckin' world_ , but she can't ignore the feeling that there's something off about him.

Why is he the _only_ Warden who hasn't disappeared? Why hasn't he heard anything about where they all went? And why is he here in the woods, playing swords with farmers, when innocent people are dying to demons just a day's march away?

She watches him across the campsite that evening, tearing the grass around her absently. Funny, Bull comes right out and says he's a Ben-Hassrath spy and she trusts him, but Blackwall is a Grey Warden, a selfless warrior who will give his life to save others from darkspawn, and hearing him joke about his heroic exploits by the fire gives her a cold chill.

Cole appears from the shadows to her right and she relaxes. _Cole would know_ , she thinks.

Before she can even ask, Cole says, "He made mistakes in the past. Did bad things. He's trying to do better. He can't undo what he's done, but he can try, can help. He wants to be better."

"Is he a danger to us?" she asks.

"If he was, I would kill him," he says simply.

She doesn't how to respond. She hesitates, and Cole is gone. 

-

They return to Haven after a week away and she runs into Cullen next to the requisition officer while she's trying to get Cole some tougher armor (as well as a new pair of boots for herself).

She expects it to be awkward, but Cullen just claps him on the shoulder and asks, "Who's the new recruit?"

She falters, then looks to Cole, who is suddenly very interested in a loose thread on his sleeve.

"I... I'll explain in the war room. It would be easier to give my report to everyone at the same time," she says, trailing off blankly.

Cullen looks skeptical, but shrugs and heads into the keep.

"Cole, why didn't Cullen remember you?" she asks cautiously.

"Right, sorry," he says. "I won't do that with the ones you talk to. It would get confusing." He looks away and fidgets a moment longer before disappearing awkwardly.

She has a sinking feeling that has nothing to do with her impending conversation with Cullen.

Before she leaves, she turns back to the requisition officer and asks her to order a vial of Antivan ink. It's a stupid idea, she knows, but it's better than doing nothing.

-

Cullen isn't thrilled, and becomes progressively less so as she explains it all to him. Cassandra is furious, having never forgotten in the first place. Josephine is flustered, frightened. "Are you saying... a demon altered my mind?" she asks.

Leliana says nothing, her face a blank mask. Evie wonders if she ever forgot in the first place.

She has no idea of what to say to make this better, but she tries anyway. "It wasn't malicious, he wasn't trying to hurt you. He's just... shy."

"Do you even _hear_ what you are saying?!" Cassandra asks, slashing out with her arm like a sword.

"I think it would be best if you left," Cullen says calmly. "We need to discuss this."

So with dread in her stomach, she does.

-

She rushes to find Cole, searching everywhere before he appears behind her.

"Yes?" he asks.

"You're safe," she says, turning, breathless. "Promise me you'll stay safe. You won't let anyone hurt you."

"...Yes," he says, but looks confused. "Did you want me to make them forget after all?"

"No, no-- that won't help, not really. Not for long. I--" she flounders, not sure what she's trying to say. "I want you to be safe here. I want you to stay, I want them to know you and trust you like I do-- I think they will, if they just get to _know_ you. But right now--"

"You think they might hurt me," he says calmly, and her heart clenches.

"Yes. No. I don't know," she mutters. "This is crazy." Could she keep him a secret? No-- that would never work long term. Leliana had to have written things down already. If he hid, they would hunt him. They knew too much about him already, he could only face them honestly or leave.

She doesn't want him to be alone. She doesn't want him to _leave_.

"You're upset. Your thoughts are fast and loud," he says, and raises his hand jerkily, like he might reach for her, but he pulls away and tugs on his glove instead.

She lets out a long breath. "Let's leave. Just for a bit. You, me, Varric... Bull, maybe. Let's just get away for a while," she says.

"Would that help?"

"For now," she hedges. She knows she's running away, but...

She won't let him get hurt. He's there because of her. She has to protect him. She makes a promise to herself.

_No matter what._

 

 


	2. Chapter 2

A rogue Templar leaves a trail of carnage in his wake, whispers in the village. He's lost to the red lyrium, launching a one-man crusade against apostates. He heard of a hedge mage in the hills, rumors the townspeople skirt away from. "She never did us any harm," they say, heavy with worry when Evie asks. "She had two children, we never found them."

Cole hears the helpless cries before they even catch sight of the cabin and is livid. Bull barely manages to pry the cellar doors apart before Cole _steps_ through the gap. He slits their captor's throat and the body crumples to the floor just as Evie steps into the room.

Two children, a boy and a girl-- kept in cages on the floor like crated dogs. They skirt away from Cole and scream. He's covered in blood.

Cole looks up to see Bull approaching and lets out a shaky breath. " _Broken, bound, bleeding, breaths bouncing off the stone walls_ ," his voice cracks. "You have to get them out."

Bull smashes the doors off the cages and when he looks up, Cole is gone.

-

They lead the children away from the house, set up camp far down the hill. They'll make the ride back to the nearby village in the morning.

Bull starts a fire and Varric invents a stew out of their remaining rations.

The children perk up a bit at the smell of food. They're still subdued, but Bull manages to coax a weak chuckle out of the boy with a goofy impression. The boy is young, resilient. His older sister stares into the flames blankly and Varric watches her with concern.

It's then that Cole emerges from the forest. He's washed the blood from his tunic, but he still looks as bedraggled as ever.

"Who are you?" asks the girl warily.

"You have a funny hat," says the boy.

Varric looks between them and then murmurs, "Cole, why don't they remember you saving them?"

"It was heavy," Cole replies, "hard for them to bear. I let it wash away, so it didn't stick."

"You can erase memories?" Bull asks from across the fire, watching with keen eyes and sharp ears.

"Just their memory of me," Cole says absently, as if it's nothing. He walks over and kneels before the girl and hands her a pink rose.

Her eyes well up in tears. "Mama and I would pick them in the woods," she says softly. 

"Your father is worried about you. He'll find you soon, perhaps in the village tomorrow. It _will_ get better."

The girl nods jerkily and keeps her eyes on the flower. She spins it in her fingers. Cole has removed all the thorns. 

-

When she was a child, Evie always wanted to play by the stream near her family estate. She'd slip out the kitchen door and run down the hill, splashing through burbling water and searching for shiny pebbles. It was a delight.

She muddied too many dresses, though, and they started locking the kitchen door. The servants would watch her, and would tell her mother if they saw her lingering. They made sure she played inside only, within the bounds.

In hindsight, it feels oddly similar to her time in the Tower.

She takes the children's soiled clothes to the river to wash, leaving the brother and sister by the fire, wrapped in blankets with Varric telling them stories.

Maddie, the girl, had climbed into Cole's lap. The spirit looked a bit lost at first, but then seemed content, arms wrapped around her and chin resting on her head.

By the time she gets back, Maddie and her brother are bundled in borrowed bedrolls, drifting off. Cole kneels between them, humming softly.

"Will they be all right?" she asks, then feels foolish. _They just lost their mother. Of course they won't_.

"They will heal. Their father is looking for them, loves them fiercely."

"I never know what to say with grief. You helped them. You're a wonder."

"...No," he says. He keeps his head down for a long moment, the silence stretching, then looks up. "I did bad things, before. You should know."

Gingerly he stands and leads her to the other side of camp, away from the children.

Varric and Bull are nearby. They keep their heads turned away, Bull sharpening his blade, Varric tending the fire. Evie knows they can hear, but if Cole doesn't mind then she doesn't either.

Softly, Cole tells her about his time in the Spire, when he had forgotten what he was. He talks about an eternity of wandering dark corridors, of standing right in front of others and being unseen, unheard. Forgotten. And he tells her about the terrified mages, locked in cells, crying out in despair to him with their minds, and how they could see him as he killed them. And how he was glad.

Varric and Bull are very still.

"You didn't know," Evie says weakly, unsure how to respond.

"I'm not a _child_ ," he says in a hard tone. "I knew I was killing them."

"Do you still want to kill them now?"

" _No!_ " he whispers emphatically, curling his fingers in the dirt beside him. His head turns quickly to look at the slumbering children, but he relaxes after a moment when they do not stir.

"You were lost. You didn't know what else to do," she says. "And you were afraid."

"It was still _wrong_ ," he says disdainfully.

"Yes," she agrees. "But I... I don't think you'll do it again."

"No," he says, and curls his hands in his lap. "I _never_ want to be that again."

"You're not alone now, Cole," she offers. "You're not forgotten. It won't come to that. If you ever need to talk... I'll always listen."

"Me too, kid," Varric says roughly, and Cole's head turns up to see him.

"Thank you," he says quietly. "Both of you."

Bull huffs by the fire, staring into the flames. "Damn it kid," he mutters. "I'm not much of a conversationalist, but tell you what--" He turns to face Cole, smacking a fist on his own knee. "--if you ever start murdering scared kids again, I'll kill you. How's that? And you know you can't hide it from me, I'd see the signs. I'd know."

"Yes. Please do," Cole says.

" _Bull_ \--" Evie starts, but Cole interrupts.

"No. That is what I want." He sounds sure.

Bull nods at Cole and Cole nods back.

"Well," sighs Varric, "on that unnervingly intense note, I'm gonna hit the sack. We've got a long trip back to Haven tomorrow. And don't think we don't know you've been running away from your advisors, Snowflake," he says, giving her a look. "Time to face the music tomorrow. But we'll have your back protecting the kid, won't we, Tiny?"

Bull grunts. "He's part of my team. Nobody's messing with him while I'm around."

"Good," says Varric. "So who's on first watch?"

"I... don't sleep," Cole volunteers. "I watch either way."

" _Really_ , kid?" groans Bull. "You had to say that. Well I'm sure as shit not going to sleep now, either."

"But-- I thought you trusted him now...?" Evie says, unsure.

"You try sleeping with the thought of him staring at you. _Guh._ " Bull gives an exaggerated shudder.

"I can look away if you like," Cole offers. "It doesn't matter where I look. I keep watch with my mind, I hear the sighs of shadows shifting in the dark."

"Seriously not helping, kid. Just stop, please."

"I think I'm a little creeped out now too, actually," adds Varric.

Evie scoffs. "It isn't weird. It's..." but she trails off, unable to find a word for it. "Thank you, Cole," she murmurs as she curls into her bedrolls.

Cole hums.

She looks at him one last time, illuminated by the firelight, before shutting her eyes. She feels perfectly safe.

-

The next morning as they're tying their packs to the horses, Cole lingers near her.

"You didn't bring Solas," he says hesitantly. "He would have come."

"I didn't think to," she says honestly.

"You don't trust him?"

She pauses, considers. "I trust him with you. He _likes_ you. I'm not sure how much I trust him with everyone else. He seemed ready to leave when the breach opened, I'm not sure how invested he is in our continued survival. I feel like we're an... academic curiosity to him at best." Evie never met an elf outside of her Tower. She wonders if they're all like this. Solitary. Guarded. 

Cole hesitates, then says, "You're not sure he would have saved the children if he heard them."

To hear it put so bluntly is unsettling, but like many of Cole's observations there's truth to it, however ugly. "No," she confesses.

"I think he would have."

"...That's good to know, Cole," she says, and means it.

-

Her first day in the Tower, she saw a mage backhanded by a templar so hard he fell to the ground, nose broken, blood pouring out. She cried and begged the templar leading her to send her home, but he shoved her in her room and locked the door. She slept that night stifling her sobs with a fist, afraid they might hear her.

Mages of noble birth were given a number of unfair considerations, the greatest of which being the Wintersend holiday spent home with their families. It was no matter that noble mages were no less likely to become abominations outside of the Templar's watch than any of their peers. Chantry rule and the Circle of Magi simply fared better when those with power weren't unduly inconvenienced by having mage children.

She counted down the days and clung to a desperate, irrational hope that once her family knew what the Tower was like, they would save her.

When she arrived home, she found out her mother was pregnant and her grandmother had bought an entire store's worth of baby clothes. The child would be the new heir to the Trevelyan name.

Her mother had little to say to her and reverted back to quoting the Chantry's stance on the Tower whenever they spoke. He grandmother was always shut in her study, busy with 'important business.' Her father was away, as always. Even the serving staff was colder to her, warier. They never spoke around her, dodged her eyes, did their best to pretend not to see her when they passed in the hallways. Her home felt unfamiliar, strange, and cold.

It was still better than the Tower.

And what's more, Evie came to the liberating realization: the kitchen door was always left unlocked now.

She would take her freedoms where she found them.

-

Cole's prediction is startlingly correct - the children are reunited with their father in the village the next day. They run into his arms and he sobs as he holds them, and before they leave, Maddie runs up to Cole and gives him a handful of tiny blue flowers. He kneels down beside her and she tucks them one by one into his hair.

"Forget-me-nots," says Varric. "How poetic."

Some of them shake loose as they begin their trek back to Haven, scattering across the ground like bright breadcrumbs spaced across a vast distance. The wind catches two as they pass a deep ravine and Evie watches as they spin through the air into the distance.

When they finally reach Haven and dismount, Cole removes his hat and shakes his head and a half dozen crumpled flowers fall from under the brim, littering the dirt.

A single undamaged one catches in a strand of hair near his collar and she plucks it and holds it out for him to take. She says nothing, just gives him a small smile that he returns, then moves past him to face Cassandra, looming at the gate with her arms crossed and an impatient frown.

-

Cassandra says nothing until the War Room door closes behind them. Leliana and Cullen look up, and Josephine looks away, her eyes steadily focused on her papers. So this will be a confrontation, then.

"What were you thinking?" Cassandra begins. "You cannot simply leave on your own without telling anyone."

"I took Varric and Bull with me."

"And the demon," says Cullen. And yes, Evie had forgotten to list him-- not that she had _forgotten_ him. Rather, there was the category of 'comrades she would request assistance from' and... Cole. Who was something else entirely.

"Yes, the demon Cole--," Cassandra continues, " _who altered Cullen's and Josephine's memories_ \--"

"Not Leliana's?" Evie cuts in. "Really?"

"I knew him once before, at the Spire. It appears he is fond of me. I do believe what you say is true, though, about the shyness," she says with a sly smile. Evie is blindsided by a sudden and painful stab of jealousy and does her best to stifle it.

"He is dangerous. You have a _responsibility_ ," Cassandra continues, louder for all the interruptions. "The Breach must be closed, we cannot afford to split our attentions dealing with a demon of all things. If you won't kill him, he needs to _leave_."

"No," says Evie fiercely. "I won't banish someone good and kind out of fear. As for _killing_ him-- if you were to kill anyone who seemed wrong or suspicious, _I_ would be dead and you would have no way to close the rifts."

"That is _not_ the same," says Cassandra.

"Isn't it?" Evie shakes her head. "Cole has done nothing but help. If you don't trust him, then _watch_ him. Watch him all you like but _don't hurt him_ \--" Her voice cracks and she takes a deep breath, looks Cassandra in the eye. "If you harm him, I leave. I'll find a way to close the rifts myself. I won't be a part of a group that would hurt someone like him."

Cassandra stares at her silent, and Evie waits, fists clenched and heart pounding, ultimatum laid out.

"You would still try to close rifts... alone?" Cassandra asks, her expression guarded.

"Of course," Evie says, sidestepping the fact that it would be _impossible_ to do on her own and would likely require hiring mercenaries or rallying the support of local soldiers. Not to mention, if she tried to leave they could likely stop her with soldiers, _and_ she still doesn't know for sure if her phylactery was destroyed in the rebellion...

...but if she escaped, she would not abandon people to the rifts, that much is true.

"Yet you would risk the lives of the Inquisition by keeping a potentially dangerous demon in its fold?"

"There's no risk. I trust him _completely_ ," she says.

Cullen makes a sound of protest at that, but Cassandra raises her hand. "...Very well. We will _watch_ him," she says seriously, a threat still implied in her tone.

Evie knows that's the most she can expect for now, so she nods and turns to leave.

 

"Evelyn, wait," says Cullen, stopping her.

She cringes at the use of her full name.

"I wrote Ostwick about you. They said you had one of the fastest Harrowings they'd ever seen. Just because you faced a weak demon you got lucky, you can't assume that all demons will be--"

"It was a desire demon, actually," Evie corrects, "and I sensed it the moment I entered the fade. It wore my grandmother's face and offered me a way out of the Tower. I sent an ice spike through its throat before it finished speaking." She walks right up to him and looks him in the eye. " _Cole isn't like that_."

Cullen clenches his teeth. "What _exactly_ do you think he is, then?"

Honestly, Evie doesn't know, but she knows they'll pounce on that if she admits it. So instead, she says, "Here to help," and leaves with a flourish. 

-

They close the Breach and when they return, Haven is attacked. A strange mage with a ridiculous moustache comes to warn them, and after that it's chaos.

They fight fires and mages alike. Cole stays close, a whirl of shadows and slicing daggers at her side.

There's a man trapped in a burning building, and Cole appears beside him and pulls him to safety before it collapses. Evie spins ice around Cole's arm to put out flames and he thanks her gently before jumping back into the fray.

They fight and fight, running and rushing, but it isn't enough. Corypheus is a monster, and they are impossibly outmatched.

Haven falls, and so does she. Down, into the dark. 

-

It always suited her to be a frost mage. Pale skin, pale hair, cold eyes. She was unearthly, unapproachable. Once the Templars gave her the thin scar along her eye, it stood out, grey against the white. Darker than the skin around it, like a sick vein or a line of ice cracking.

She wakes alone in a tunnel and she doesn't feel fear, desperation, or panic. Frost seeps around her and she takes a deep breath.

She shakes off the snow, stands, and staggers. She is cold, inside and out, and the ice gives her clarity. She grits her teeth and moves, one foot in front of the other.

As she progresses, demons surround her, and she notices them in a detached sort of way. The mark in her palm pulses with power. Without thinking she reaches for it with her mind and _pulls_. A feeling of inky blackness suffuses her, seeps over her skin, blocks out sound like going underwater, and the demons let out muffled screams of pain.

In mere moments there's nothing left but shaking silence. She huffs, her breath fogging the cold air in front of her.

She continues walking.

-

She staggers across the snowblind hills in endless steps, one after the other. She is resilient, _resistant_ to cold, but even that can only do so much. And she is _tired_.

There's a beauty in it, though, she thinks. When she summons ice, it never feels brittle or harsh to her.

She remembers her first winter home from Ostwick, slipping through the unlocked door and running to her stream. Everything was still and serene, the snow making a subtle hush fall through the woods. The icicles sparkled down from the trees, and the waterfall was frozen mid-motion, like a monumental statue brimming with refracted light.

She had stared out across the frozen water and felt an overwhelming calm. Her life had changed. Nowhere felt like home, but this place-- this place felt safe. It felt sacred, so far away from stone walls that it felt like another world.

She wanted to _dance_ , all the ballroom moves they tried to teach her as a little girl, but swirled through the snow, across the ice. She held herself back and only watched, though, her breath caught in her throat and a giddy feeling in her chest. She didn't want to break the stillness. Her eyes, _they_ danced. She traced the patterns and twirls where she imagined steps would land, spinning and spiraling over the pooled water stage.

Those winters felt like the only time she could breathe.

 

The memories spring to mind as she staggers through the cold, the scene sets itself over her eyes, and the safe calmness of it makes her smile. The roar of the storm is drowned out by a muffled silence and she sees the pond before her eyes, as if she's walking toward it.

A familiar shape stands atop the waterfall. He's saying something to her, but she can't hear him over the hush.

She blinks slowly and she's back to watching the ice, the light refracting. She thinks she blinks, or maybe she closes her eyes, and the hill is empty.

She hears a voice, nearby now. _You need to stay awake, Evie_. He sounds urgent.

She thinks she moves her legs but she isn't sure. There are two worlds, one on top of another, and the rainbows of light are so much _brighter_.

Cole stands before her, just ahead, and says, ' _This way, they're looking for you.'_ He fidgets, skirting just out of reach, like a mirage. Wanting to reach out, but flitting away.

She smiles, her cracked lips pulling. It was fitting that he would be here. The most precious being she ever met, here in her sanctuary. Guiding her on, like an echo of Envy. It comforts her. She doesn't think she can chase after him this time, though.

" _Stay with me_ ," he pleads.

She gives a wry smile, knowing she can't agree. But this is her fantasy isn't it?

"Where you go, I go," she promises, a hoarse whisper.

She falls forward and she thinks she hears a yelp and feels arms catching her, but then there is only blackness.

 

 


	3. Chapter 3

She learned to bluff at Ostwick.

She was there less than a year when she saw a mage even younger than her get beaten due to a Templar's foul mood.

They never raised a hand to Evie. Her name kept her safe.

She thought of her mother's games and gossip, remembered parties and words that were daggers whispered behind delicate fans.

She took a deep breath and lied.

"This is the famed discipline of the Templars?" she sneered. "If my father heard of this you would be sacked." Her hands shook and she hid them in fists against her sides. "Honestly, you're making a mess of the hallway. Clean that blood up."

They hated her, thought her a spoilt brat. But they wouldn't touch her. She wasn't worth the trouble. There's power in that, she thought, if you're careful how far you push.

How many people would follow you if you acted like you should be followed, she wondered? How many people would fear you if you thought you should be frightening?

She waited for the day when someone saw through her lies.

It couldn't be that easy, could it?

-

They name her leader of the Inquisition, give her an entire _castle_. It is terrifying, and yet strangely not.

They call her Inquisitor or Herald. Some call her Your Worship. She hates it.

It's only when they call her Evelyn that she corrects them. "Evelyn is my grandmother," she says.

Her name is Evie, but so few are close enough to use it. Every day that's passed since the Conclave, she's felt the gulf grow wider. By the time she reaches Skyhold, it feels like a yawning chasm.

She can't find Cole, and they won't let her get away to look.

-

Cullen slaps her on the shoulder in the courtyard after the ceremony, while Leliana gives her a sharp smile.

"I'm still not quite sure why you chose _me_ ," she admits.

"You are the Herald of Andraste, here to deliver us from destruction," Leliana says with a lofty grin. "You are a hero to the people, a legend. The best strategic move is to build upon your image."

"Hold on," Cullen says. "It isn't just a tactical decision. We _believe_ in you."

Evie raises her eyebrow at that. She turns to Cassandra. "When did that happen?"

"Demon issues _aside_ \--" Cassandra says dryly.

"Cassandra and I agree, you show great integrity. You have the makings of a strong leader, one that others would be glad to follow," Cullen says.

"And pray tell, how is that _not tactical_?" Leliana asks with a look.

"I... we don't want you to feel like you don't deserve it, because you do," Cullen says awkwardly

"Thank you," Evie says distantly. She looks away. "I should probably get going. Need to get settled in and all."

"Of course," Cassandra says with a nod.

-

She runs into First Enchanter Vivienne on the steps to the keep as she searches for Cole. The elegant mage has _deigned_ to join their cause-- Leliana and Josephine had sounded impressed when they told her.

"My dear Inquisitor, you look _dreadful_ ," Vivienne soothes, and Evie takes it as an insult.

"I'm _fine_ , thank you," she snarls, brushing past.

She finds out later that Vivienne was at Ostwick once. She wants to ask, were they cruel then, too? Is this what you became to survive? Or have you simply forgotten?

Whatever Vivienne was, Evie hates what she is now. She reminds her too much of people and places she'd rather forget.

-

Night falls and Evie's stomach is filled with worry. She hasn't seen Cole since Haven. She is herded to her rooms, the messenger eager to show off the frankly _obscene_ accommodations.

Outside, the courtyard is chaos, refugees still trying to find families. It's _understandable_ that she hasn't seen Cole yet. She wants to stay out and search for him, forgo sleep, but logic counsels patience. Her advisors don't support her attachment, and it would only hurt her if they saw her chasing through the refugees all night like a mad person.

She worries about what she'll do if he's gone.

She settles on the balcony to brood when there's a knock. A servant brings her a package-- the Antivan ink she requested, pulled off the last shipment rerouted from Haven.

She dismisses him and settles on her bed with the bottle, turning it over in her hands. This is foolish, ridiculous, but she feels resolute. What if he disappeared? What if he's fading? How much longer would she even remember?

She searches the desk in the corner. The drawers are all empty, and she slips the extra traveling rations from her pockets into the bottom one just to fill the space. Finally she finds a quill and a candle and goes to sit.

Carefully, she heats the quill over the candle and scratches a message into the skin of her leg, high up where clothing would always hide it.

'Remember Cole,' she writes. 'Don't let him make you forget. Protect him.'

As she finishes she has a moment of terror. _What would my mother think?_ She lets out a started laugh, clasps her hand over her mouth hysterically. An Antivan tattoo on her skin, permanent and irreversible. This is madness.

But the thought of Cole fading away and forgotten, nothing left and nothing left to show--

What does a bit of ink matter, anyway?

She made a promise.

-

By the time she turned fifteen, things had fallen into a rhythm at Ostwick.

The Templars sneered at her, stopped talking when she walked past them in the hallways, but they never lashed out.

Her fellow apprentices also met her with silence. They left her to study alone, never offered to help and she never asked. But there were a few exceptions. Jacob, two years younger than her, whom she had never even spoken with, came to her one day with fear in his eyes and the words, ' _library corridor_.' She rushed there, only to find two Templars leaving as if they had other business and a mage standing gingerly, doubled over, blood on his lip. He looked up and saw her and nodded. Evie hesitated, then nodded back and left before they could say a word.

She walked with far more freedom than most mages. She found that if you walked with purpose, you could go most anywhere. She could get into the kitchens to smuggle food without being questioned, and she distributed it when it was most needed with a stern, cold look that invited no gratitude.

The younger ones were foolish. A stolen sweet could easily become two or ten if they had their way. The power Evie had was fragile. If she pushed for more... it could all break in an instant. So she acted when it was necessary, and made it clear no one should approach her for _favors_.

She didn't have much in the way of friends.

-

She searches again the next morning, under the guise of inspecting the grounds.

She hears about missing daggers first, then dumped turnips. Breadcrumbs leading to him, but instead of Cole she finds Solas, Cassandra, and Vivienne, catches the word _demon_ as she passes.

"It is remarkable," says Solas. "He willfully manifested a human body without possessing anyone."

"Have you seen him?" she asks them sharply.

"He is around somewhere," says Cassandra with a tired look, and the knot in Evie's gut eases somewhat.

"It _concerns_ me that you can be so relaxed about that," says Vivienne, arms folded.

"I believe he is here to help," says Cassandra. "He has done nothing to indicate otherwise."

Evie remembers Cole holding a frightened girl in his lap, singing her to sleep. "I'm more than willing to take my chances," she tells Vivienne coldly.

"Demons change your thoughts, dear, alter your mind," Vivienne says patronizingly. "That is what they _do_. That you keep allowing it to live is inviting all sorts of trouble."

Cassandra hesitates a moment, then turns to Evie. "He saved you," she says quietly. "Carried your body back in the snow. He would not leave your side. None of the healers remember him there, but I saw him."

"Oh," says Evie softly.

"When you were missing, it upset him greatly."

"No doubt because it has already latched on and is feeding off her," Vivienne says coldly.

"Enchanter, for all of your so-called education, you show astounding ignorance when it comes to spirits," says Solas.

"Oh? Am I to defer to the expertise of an untrained apostate, then?" Vivienne raised her hand to her mouth mockingly. "Pardon me, I thought you said even you had no idea how he looked so human."

"I said it was remarkable. I did not say it was _impossible_ ," Solas says harshly. "It demonstrates an incredible amount of stubbornness and will--"

" _Ridiculous_ ," snorts Vivienne. "And this is meant to convince me it is not a threat?"

Cassandra heaves a heavy sigh. Evie can tell this conversation is far from over, so she extricates herself while she can. Cassandra nods as she leaves, eyes filled with tired resignation.

-

She finally finds him sitting off to the side of the courtyard, playing in the dirt.

She sits across from him immediately, awkward and fumbling. "Hello," she says.

" _Relief, rushing like waves pulled from the shore. Won't have to find a path in the dark after all. He's here, whole--_ " he looks up. "Hello," he answers, then looks down again shyly, dragging his fingers through the dirt and grass.

"Why were you hiding...?" she asks hesitantly.

"They wanted me to leave. They've seen more of me now, enough to be suspicious. But..." He looks up, cautiously. " _You_ want me to stay." He says it like a question.

"Of _course_ ," she says. "You're still letting them remember you?"

"Yes. But I'm careful, like you said. I can stay out of sight _and_ stay remembered."

She nods. "Good."

"They made you their leader," he says hesitantly. "You're important now."

She rolls her eyes. "I'm still me."

"That's good. I'm glad."

"So... turnips, daggers, breadcrumbs...?" she asks with a smile. "Is this what you do when there aren't any archdemons to fight?"

"I like to help," he says patiently, and explains. Turnips for the dying soldier, daggers so the guards won't fight, breadcrumbs on the ramparts for the birds.

"You're a wonder," she repeats with a grin.

He looks away awkwardly. "I'm glad you understand," he says from under his hat, but she sees the corner of a smile.

"What are you doing now?"

"Looking for a clover with an extra leaf, to give a boy the courage to talk to a girl he likes," he says.

"Oh, sorry!" She scrambles sideways, moving to sit beside him in the dirt instead of in the clover patch. "You should have told me I was in the way."

"You can't be in the way," he says, "the way bends where you go."

She sits beside him and helps him look, and after a moment he scoots closer. His knee brushes hers, though he keeps looking away, and she feels a tingle like magic.

It takes her more than a few minutes to realize it _was_ , when no one passing even glances at them anymore. "Cole?"

"I'm hiding you, too," he says softly. "They think bad things when they see you with me. I don't want them to be angry at you."

"Cole, they don't--"

"You have to be important," he says gently. "The face they see for their fight."

She goes to move away out of sheer stubbornness, but his hand on her knee stops her.

"Don't hurt yourself for me. It doesn't help anyone."

She settles back gently with a huff and he removes his hand. They both continue searching quietly.

"Cassandra says you saved me," she says and he stills. "Thank you."

He plucks a clover and holds it up to her to see. Four leaves.

"I like spending time with you," he says. "You're bright, light spilling through cracks in stone walls, not dampened by the dark. Warm like rocks on desert nights. You help others in ways I can't. I want to help you."

"I've never had anyone call me warm before," she says awkwardly.

"You don't like to let others see, but you are steady, solid, honest." He pauses. "The ones that know you don't see you how you think."

 _You're the only one who sees me, Cole_ , she thinks impulsively, but stifles it. Instead she sits close, her knee brushing his, and asks simply: "Will you stay?"

"I will."

-

Evie is walking through Skyhold's main hall with Bull, discussing how risky it would be sending the Chargers to sift through what was left of Haven, when a shout comes from the entranceway.

" _You there_! Qunari! Help me move this chair."

"What, out of the goodness of my savage heart?" Bull calls back without pause.

"You're eight feet of solid muscle, it will take you all of two minutes, and I'd be happy to compensate."

Bull snorts and turns to her with a raised eyebrow as they approach. "What do you think, boss?"

"Oh _vishante kaffas_ , you're the Inquisitor, aren't you?" Dorian sighs, noticing her.

"And you're Dorian, the Tevinter mage from Haven," Evie replies.

"I didn't recognize you without the--" he makes a flailing hand motion. "--raining death and destruction. I thought you'd be older?"

"I thought you'd be ... eviler?" she asks, and Bull snickers beside her.

"Oh, I'm very bad. I can even twirl my moustache if it helps--" He curls his finger through a ring and laughs, " _Oh ho ho ho_. Now help me move this chair. I have to get it to the library, sooner rather than later."

"What's the rush?" asks Bull, but he leans down to lift the chair, making a point to carry it with only one arm.

"I'm missing my afternoon nap, of course. This complexion requires a very strict regimen of beauty sleep. Would you deprive the world of this face?" he asks with a gesture.

"You're so full of shit," Bull laughs. "What's the note say?" He reaches across for a paper pinned to the chair back.

Dorian snatches it before Bull can reach and crumples it into his pocket.

"Something tells me you didn't order this chair," smirks Bull as he heads up the stone staircase.

"Utterly preposterous!" calls Dorian. "Do you have any idea what it takes to have Nevarran ermine fur shipped here? It's _illegal_ in Orlais, you know, you have to route it through the Free Marches."

"Wait, ermine fur?" Evie thinks she overheard a conversation between Josephine and-- "Dorian, is that _Vivienne's_ chair?"

There's a loud _thunk_ and a muffled _'shit'_ up ahead as Bull abruptly drops the chair on the upper landing.

"You did _not_ just steal Enchanter Vivienne's chair," she says, then grins. "... did you?"

Dorian turns to smirk at her, halfway up the steps. "I have no idea what you're talking about. Only a bad man would do such a thing, and I-- oh wait, yes, I suppose you've got me." He holds his hands out and laughs, then dashes up the stairs.

Evie's not sure what just happened, but she's pretty sure they just became friends.

-

Blackwall pulls her aside later that day for a warning that rankles her.

"You'd best keep an eye on Cole," he says, hand at her elbow. "Demons are dangerous, unpredictable--"

She shrugs his arm off roughly. "Cole's staying. If you have a problem with that, then leave."

"Apologies, Inquisitor, I just meant that--"

"You're here _because_ of Cole," Evie says, exasperated. "I didn't trust you. It's _Cole_ who said you weren't a threat."

"Don't trust me?" he demands. "Why?"

She's not sure how to answer. She grits her teeth. "Well, you're a liar, aren't you?" she asks. It's a stab in the dark, but it's also a fair guess for most anyone.

"How _dare_ you," he says and steps forward, cornering her against the wall.

She flinches slightly, much as she wishes she didn't. Dust falls over them suddenly as the roof creaks.

Blackwall steps back quickly, settles, calms himself. "Well I suppose it takes a liar to spot one, doesn't it _Your Worship_?" he says roughly. "Do what you want, then. Maker knows why I'd try to stop you."

He storms out with a shaky huff of breath.

-

As she steps out of the stables, Cole appears beside her, putting his dagger away.

"You trust me that much?" he asks abruptly. "To say who stays or who goes?"

"Of course," she says shakily. Had Cole been on the roof?

"I'm not sure I like that responsibility," he says, wary, watching where Blackwall left.

"Were you wrong?"

"He was furious, but only at himself. The one he wants to hurt is only in his mind now. He's shaken, sad, sorry," he says, turns, "but you were _scared_."

"I'm fine. You were _right_."

"Right _then_ , but not _always_ ," he says. "I don't always _see_."

"Nobody can know everything. We make the best judgments we can with what we've got," she says. She reaches for his sleeve. "If you feel strongly about someone, say so. If you're torn, tell me your reasons and I'll make the decision. The responsibility doesn't have to be on you."

He nods. "And what if ...I can't tell you at the time?" he asks, fidgeting.

"...We could have a code?" she offers.

"What's a code?" he asks curiously.

"A way of saying something without the person you're hiding it from understanding."

"Like Leliana's letters?" he asks.

She raises an eyebrow. "Yes, exactly like that. How about..." she pauses, then grins. "If someone might be dangerous on the inside, say you don't like their hat."

"And then you'll know to be careful," he says.

She nods and he smiles.

"Good."

-

She and Cole hear a commotion up ahead and follow the sound to Skyhold's main hall, curious.

Vivienne throws a clipboard back at a servant and lets out a huff of anger.

"Madame, it was signed for already!"

"She's upset, someone stole something from her," Cole says.

"Er, I might have helped," Evie says awkwardly.

Cole turns to look at her, wide-eyed.

"I-- oh, hush. It was only a chair, we can order another," she says, mortified.

Dorian steps into the hall and says with great concern, "Oh _dear_ , has there been some sort of mix up?"

"Hmph." Vivienne crosses her arms and waves a hand dismissively. "Keep it, darling. I was about to dispose of it anyway. The boat it came on is said to have had _quite_ the infestation of spiderlings, after all, and it is _such_ a hassle to remove the upholstery to search for eggs."

Two passing servants stop to look at Vivienne, horrified.

"Oh, and _do_ be alert for sounds of burrowing, dear," Vivienne continues, "as they often leave behind the bodies of the mothers for the young to feed on when they hatch."

One servant stifles a sound of disgust into her sleeve, and they both rush out of the hall whispering. Vivienne grins.

Dorian steps forward with a swagger, his eyes bright. "Why _thank you_ , Enchanter. That's very generous of you, and I appreciate your concern. You needn't worry, however-- in Tevinter, spider eggs are considered a delicacy, and we have refined the act of harvesting them to, shall we say, an art form. It's sometimes difficult to get all the blood out afterwards, though."

"They both use so many words they don't mean," Cole says wonderingly. "Tangled, twisting meanings meant to hurt, but look playful, like snakes with bright colors."

Vivienne and Dorian both turn to see them in the doorway, so Evie gives a small wave. "Making friends, I see, Dorian," she calls.

Dorian gives her a jovial salute. "You as well. That's quite the insightful shadow."

"You should not encourage that _thing_ ," Vivienne says coldly.

"Evie is not a thing," Cole snaps, immediately angry.

Vivienne's eyes narrow, and Evie tugs his sleeve. "It's all right, Cole. Let's go."

She drags him to the door, but as she leaves she hears Vivienne call, "Somehow, Dorian, amidst talk of _Tevinter blood magic_ , you are still not the most foolish mage in the room. Maker preserve us."

-

Cole goes to Solas that evening, nervous but questioning.

"Solas, is it bad to want to help one person more than others?" he asks, head down and twisting loose threads of his sleeve between his fingers.

Solas sets down his book with a sigh. "Spirits do have a tendency to fixate," he says evenly, "but your primary goal must always be helping everyone. That is your nature."

Cole nods.

"I assume it is the Inquisitor of which you speak, Cole? She cannot require your _full_ attention. Though it is true she bears a heavy burden, so perhaps that is what draws you."

"I-- yes. Maybe?" Cole says awkwardly.

"You must keep your distance, though, Cole, and keep to your purpose," Solas says seriously.

Cole looks down and nods again. "Thank you, Solas," he says and turns to leave.

Solas frowns as he watches him go.


	4. Chapter 4

Blackwall finds Cole sitting on the edge of a stone wall, looking down over where the healers set up camp.

"She said _you're_ the reason I'm here," he says roughly. "What exactly are you playing at, _demon?_ "

Cole turns and stands up, still on the ledge, looking down at Blackwall from his precarious position. His hat blocks the sun, leaves a great shadow, but Blackwall still has to shield his eyes when he moves.

"I didn't tell her your secret," he says softly, fidgeting with his glove. "I only told her you were here to help, not hurt."

"My _secret_ ," Blackwall says skeptically.

" _Rainier_ ," Cole says simply.

" _Maker's balls_ , how do you--" Blackwall spins, looks around frantically. "You can actually see that in my head?!"

"Yes. He is your deepest hurt, your biggest regret. I saw him the moment I met you."

"What, and now you're hoping to _blackmail_ me?" Blackwall sneers.

"I... don't know what that is," Cole admits, confused.

Blackwall looks at him like he's grown a second head.

"You want to protect. People are in danger," Cole says. "You should stay."

"And... that's it?" Blackwall demands, disbelieving. "What's the catch?"

Cole frowns. "There is no catch."

Blackwall hesitates. "You're not like any demon I've ever heard of."

"I am a spirit," Cole insists. "And I will _watch_ ," he warns, stepping forward to look menacing. "I will know if you become a danger. You... scared Evie yesterday. _Don't_ do it again," he says seriously.

He disappears before Blackwall can respond.

-

Evie is called to the war room again to give token input on matters she knows are far over her head.

Her advisors are highly qualified, experts in their respective fields... she finds herself merely nodding again and again, telling them to do what they think is best.

She would do better as a simple figurehead.

What does she even offer, really? She grew up in a Tower. She only just passed her harrowing three years prior. She has no real knowledge of diplomacy, politics, or world affairs. Most of her time and energy up to this point have been spent either surviving the Tower or daydreaming about not being in the Tower.

Her true value is in her ability to seal rifts, and there are certainly no rifts in the war room.

 

After a handful of minor decisions are made, Josephine gets to the heart of the matter. "You come from a noble family. The Inquisition could benefit from the support of House Trevelyan."

"No," Evie says immediately, without looking up.

Josephine falters. "No? Are things... not good with your family?"

"I do not think they would support us. And I don't want to ask." She says it with finality.

Josephine studies her face for a moment, then nods. "About the lyrium supply, then..." she starts, and Evie sighs.

-

Evie searches all around Skyhold for Cole the next day, but can't find him. She's not as worried as before, she doesn't think he's left, but she does _miss_ him.

She finds him when she isn't looking, in the library as she's coming back from the rookery.

He has a chessboard in front of him, and he tilts his head up toward her then looks away again. Something about his body language seems off, like he'd rather be away.

"I was waiting for Solas," he says and she nods awkwardly.

"Right, I'll leave you to--"

"--would you like to play?"

They both speak at the same time, and Cole keeps his head down, his attention fixed in his lap as he runs his finger across the engravings on a knight.

"I'm rubbish at chess," she says. "It's a game of patience, and I'm not very patient."

"You won sometimes at the Tower," he says without looking up.

"Sometimes," she says, moving closer.

"Inquisitor," Solas speaks from behind her, "to what do I owe the pleasure?"

There's a clack as Cole replaces the knight on the chessboard too suddenly, then fidgets with his hands in his lap.

"Sorry," Evie says, looking between them. "I didn't mean to interrupt your time together."

Solas watches her and seems perfectly polite, but somehow she feels scrutinized underneath it. Between him and Cole seeming off, she makes a hasty retreat.

"I should be going. I'll see you later, Cole," she says quickly, then pauses. "...If you like, I could eat my supper on the battlements later with you, while you listen."

"Yes," Cole says immediately.

"Right. See you then," she nods quickly and leaves.

Cole watches her go, then resolutely keeps his gaze as far away from Solas as possible.

"Cole..." Solas begins.

"You _heard_ , Solas-- I'll be listening, helping. That is my purpose."

"What is your fascination with her?"

"Evie's light is cool and clear. She doesn't blind me, just makes the world brighter. I like to be near her." He pulls a thread on his sleeve, his voice shy and soft. He looks up as Solas approaches.

"To put her above your purpose is to pervert your own existence," Solas says adamantly.

Cole shakes his head. "It isn't like that, Solas. She isn't _above_ , she helps me to help."

Solas sighs. "You will do as you like, but I urge _caution_ , Cole. You must remember what you are."

-

They meet on the ramparts that evening and sit together, a comfortable silence between.

Impulsively, she brings paper and charcoal. She used to draw sometimes in the Tower. Her skills are rusty, but it's relaxing.

She sketches the keep, the mountains, the vines on the side of the stone. Then, as she gathers courage, she sketches the side of Cole's face as he looks down at Skyhold.

If he ever disappears, she would like to have a picture of him. Something to remember.

She tries to keep her thoughts small, unnoticed. She focuses on the shapes and the shadows, the distances between points.

She sits with him and draws until the sun sets and it gets too dark to see.

-

Varric's contact gives them a lead in Crestwood and they head out the next day. Cassandra is angry, her fury simmering as they mount and march out.

"He was protecting his friend, Cassandra," Evie says dismissively. "If he was the type to _not_ , that's when I would worry."

Cassandra scoffs and rides ahead to speak with Scout Harding.

Vivienne and Dorian elect to stay behind in Skyhold, ostensibly to "settle in." ("More like to avoid getting mud on their fashionable leather boots," mutters Varric.)

What they find in Crestwood isn't what they expect. Undead rise from the lake and terrorize the town, and a rift spins a maelstrom through the water, lightning and rain lashing through the sky.

"I know it's not what we came here for, but--" starts Varric.

"Of course we'll stay and fix this. People are in danger," Evie says. Did they think she would say otherwise? When she looks back, the others nod affirmatively. They pull their cloaks tighter against the gale, but they seem resolute. Determined.

Scout Harding briefs them on what to expect, then turns to Cole. "Your hat's sort of ridiculous, but boy it sure must come in handy in this weather. Did you bring it just for this?"

"No," says Cole awkwardly. "I always wear it."

"Oh, well. Lucky for you!" she laughs.

-

"The demons don't like water," Cole says as he looks out over the lake.

"Indeed," says Solas. "It is transient and ever-shifting. It reminds them of the Fade, but it is a pale comparison to the home from which they were pulled."

"They should try seeing it for what it is instead," Cole says.

"Cole," asks Evie. "Have you ever been swimming?"

"I would drift in the water beneath the Spire. It was calming. I don't think that counts, though."

"Do you, uh... need to breathe?" Varric asks, morbidly curious.

"I don't know," Cole says hesitantly. "I don't think I'd like finding out."

-

They pass road signs and Cole asks what they say.

"You can't read, Cole?" Evie asks.

"No," he says. "I hear others read through their thoughts, but they don't always read what I want them to."

"Ugh, _creepy_ ," Sera shudders as she stomps past him, splashing through a puddle with more force than necessary.

"That's a shame," Evie says. "We could find someone to teach you?"

"Inquisitor," Solas interjects, "you mustn't make the mistake of attributing human values to Cole. He is not human, he is a spirit."

Evie falters, chastened. "I... just thought he might like to read. I know he doesn't have to."

"Spirits have no need for--"

"I would," Cole interrupts, looking to Solas apologetically. "I want to know more, to help. I think I would like the stories."

Solas frowns, but nods.

"Just don't read any of Varric's stuff and you should be good, kid," Bull grunts from behind them.

"Hey! I'm a bestselling author," Varric bristles.

"Yes, he has a talent for _telling stories_ , to be sure," Cassandra says coldly from up ahead.

Varric winces as he looks to her, watches her with a furrow between his brows.

Cole looks between the two of them, then turns to Varric. "She hunts the hawk by habit," he says softly, "the Seeker doesn't seek to harm."

Varric nods. "Thanks kid, I know. She just needs some time."

Cole nods.

-

They find a cluster of houses, boarded windows, and a locked door. "There are people in there," Cole says, pointing. "Huddled, hungry... but unharmed."

Evie tests the door, tries to peer through the windows, and knocks. "Hello? We're, uh, not bandits."

"Sounds like something bandits would say," mutters Varric.

Sera snorts.

"They're not going to unboard all that just to greet you," Blackwall says dully.

She sees an open hatch on the roof, rain pouring in rivulets around the edges. She turns to Cole. "Can you get up there?"

Cole tilts his head, then looks back at her and nods.

She reaches into her pack and pulls out some extra rations. "Here," she says, handing them to him.

In a puff of smoke he's standing by the hatch, looking in, then he disappears. There's a shriek and a " _Sorry!_ " from within.

" _H-how did you get in?_ " comes a woman's voice.

" _We are the Inquisition. We are here to help._ "

" _I-It's a demon!_ " Says a man. There's a muffled thump.

Cole reappears on the roof, then back at her side. "I'm going to let them forget me," he says with a sideways glance.

"But not the food, I hope?" asks Bull.

"It's plain to see. They'll know it's from the Inquisition, but won't be sure how it got there."

Evie nods and tugs his sleeve. "Come on. Can you tell which other houses have people?"

"Just how many rations have you got, Snowflake?" Varric jokes. "Preparing for winter?"

"I'm just glad I brought extra."

-

They stop to take shelter and eat near the mayor's house and Evie finally gets a chance to talk to Cole alone.

"Cole," she starts hesitantly, "back in Skyhold, you were angry when Vivienne called... me a thing."

"Yes," he says. "It was cruel."

"But you don't get angry when she says the same about you," Evie prompts.

"I don't matter," Cole replies, confused.

"Arrgh," she growls, and Cole looks startled. "I thought you would say that," she says.

"I've upset you," he says with a note of uncertainty.

" _Vivienne's_ upset me. The rest of the world's upset me. _I've_ upset me for not noticing sooner." She turns to him. "Sorry."

"I'm... not sure I understand."

"You never _complained_ ," she says. "I thought it didn't matter to you."

"It doesn't," he agrees.

She shakes her head. "--because you think _you_ don't matter. It's not the same." She walks in front of him, catches his eyes and looks at him fiercely. "You're fine, you're perfect, and you are most definitely _you_. Cole. Not an _it_ , not a _thing_ , not ever. Vivienne can sod off."

"... Thank you, I think?" he says, head tilted and curious.

"You don't understand yet, but don't worry," she says, giving him a slight smile. She nudges his arm gently. "I'll figure out how to convince you eventually."

-

As Cole and Bull fight in melee together, they start to establish a system.

After that first frightening time teleporting next to Bull, Cole did his best to stay back, but Bull had a habit of being in the middle of chaos and Cole could only be so effective skirting the far edges.

The second time he stepped close it was to stop an assassin who snuck into Bull's blind spot. Cole made the kill and said urgently, "I'm beside, behind-- don't hit me!"

"Don't worry, kid," Bull said gruffly, then turned his back to him and went on fighting.

Since then, they've become more fluid. Cole's daggers dancing between Bull's swings, his soft voice calling " _Here_ " each time he appears.

As they creep up to Caer Bronach, Bull raises his axe to charge the guardsman, but Cole appears with a soft touch against his elbow, silent. Bull looks to him and nods, never tensing, and waits while Cole dispatches the guardsman and three others bandits before any can sound the alarm.

They all fight to take back the Keep flawlessly. Bull wreaks havoc in the center courtyard, with Cole backing him up. Cassandra and Blackwall guard their flanks. Sera and Varric keep up cover fire, picking off any bandits on the upper stories. Solas keeps them shielded and throws energy blasts, and Evie blocks escape routes and reinforcements with walls of ice.

Bull, covered in blood, roars as he decapitates the last one and stands panting as the dust settles. Cole turns to him quietly.

"You don't scare me," he says.

"Uh, good for you, kid," Bull replies gruffly.

"Fierce, fearsome, feral... your friends don't see you like that. You don't scare me," he repeats. "You are kind, underneath," he says, then walks off to join the others.

Bull lowers his axe with a huff, jaw open a moment too long, until he shakes it off. "Thanks, kid," he murmurs.

-

They turn the wheel to drain the dam and step back out into the rain. At first they don't even notice the sound over the roar of the water rushing, stones shaking beneath them.

But then above the noise rises a _shriek_ , and the unmistakable sound of wings beating behind them.

" _Dragon_!" Blackwall shouts.

Bull gives a whoop of delight. Cassandra pushes Evie behind her. Varric opens fire, and Sera steps back to get a better position, but as the dragon flies overhead its tail crashes down into the stone where they stand, breaking away rubble. Sera swears and stumbles back, slips in the water, and starts to fall over the side of the dam.

Before Evie can lunge, Cole is there, tugging Sera to safety, but the momentum that yanks her back towards solid ground also leaves him on the edge, and that's right when the first lightning blast hits.

There's a flash of light and sound and Evie screams his name, just barely sees the edge of him disappear over the side as her vision clears.

She shakes Cassandra off and runs to the edge just in time to see him go under the churning, draining water.

She hesitates for all of a second before she jumps.

She doesn't know how to swim.

It's _cold_ , the shock hits her system like lightning-- or maybe it _is_ lighting-- and _she doesn't know how to swim._

But ice floats. She just has to reach him.

She breathes in a lungful of water and chokes, retches under the waves, and sees his pale skin fading in the depths.

Oh, Maker.

She casts a _fade step_ , hurls herself through the water to him, waves of magic pushing her forward, and she grasps his arm, pulls him close, and frantically spins ice around them, a wide disc that pulls them up, up to the surface.

"Cole!" she chokes as they surface, bobbing on the waves and sailing swiftly toward the draining water and a deadly drop. " _Cole!_ "

He coughs, sputters, and shakes water from his eyes. Seeing their oncoming doom, he gasps and wraps his arms around her tightly, holds on for all he's worth and _pulls_ her away.

For a heart-stopping moment she is _nowhere_ , then she's gasping, choking against the shore fifty meters from where they were a moment ago, Cole panting harshly beneath her.

She hears a distant echoing shriek and looks over her shoulder to see the dragon disappear into the hills.

" _Put that back!_ " says a voice from directly above her and she yelps.

Hovering above her is a spirit, glowing red with no corporeal form.

"Did I tell anyone to move that lake? Bring it back here right now, I command you!"

"Sorry," says Cole weakly, looking up at the spirit upside-down.

"Did I ask you to speak, Compassion?"

"Oh!" says Cole. Evie looks down and for the first time sees red staining his blonde hair.

"Cole?" she prompts worriedly.

" _Compassion_ ," he says. "That is my name. I had forgotten for a while." He blinks blearily then shuts his eyes with a wince.

Further up the shore a fish flops against a rotted barrel, making a slapping sound. "Stop that!" says Command, floating away toward it. "I demand you stop that right now!"

Evie looks down, smooths her hand through his hair. "Hang on, Cole. You'll be fine." She hears shouting, Bull swearing, as the others find a way to navigate down the cliffs. "Please hang on. _Stay with me_."

"I don't _want_ to be distant," Cole murmurs, then falls unconscious.

-

She settles Cole on a spare bedroll, his head pillowed on her blanket. She sits beside him in the tent, worried and on guard, even with the tent flap sealed, the rest of the world kept out, rain pattering away outside.

Solas said he would be fine, would likely wake by morning.

"Are spirits supposed to sleep?" she had asked, and Solas had only frowned.

She hears whispering from outside, dark shapes passing against sheer tent walls.

"I just don't understand her actions," Cassandra says softly. "Sometimes she can be so _rash_ \--"

"Really? The story's the same as always," Varric says with a chuckle. "Girl meets boy, boy saves girl, girl makes googly eyes at boy, girl threatens bloody dismemberment at anyone who would hurt boy-- well, maybe not _exactly_ the same..."

Cassandra gasps. "Varric, you don't think--"

"Sure do, Seeker. Right from the start."

Evie blushes, grits her teeth. She wouldn't deny it, though. What if it hurt him to deny it?

She cared about him. She was in awe of who he was, what he did. She would never ask anything of him. She would simply be there for him, and protect him. The rest didn't matter.

She huffs a sigh and keeps watch, keeping him safe until morning.

 

 


	5. Chapter 5

Cole walks through a twisting forest, his footsteps unsteady on a path that wavers beneath him. He feels dizzy.

Above him the sky glows green, a vortex flowing up. He fears he'll fall into it if he stares too long. In the distance, a dark city looms.

He tugs his sleeves, but they don't feel like sleeves. His skin feels warped, wrong. He doesn't fit here.

A twig snaps and he freezes. Ahead of him, a shadow shifts between the trees. He hears a low snarl.

"H-hello?"

 _It doesn't have a song._ It is a shade, empty. Not real.

_DID I ASK YOU TO SPEAK, COMPASSION?_

Cole flinches. The words come from the shadow, but also from everywhere. His heart thuds in his chest.

The shadow steps onto the path, blocks his way and looms over him. It is huge, feral, canine. It growls and Cole feels his bones shake.

"H-have you seen... I'm looking for someone--"

The creature snarls, snaps its teeth. Cole yelps and steps back, but his back hits a tree. He spins. The path is gone, he's trapped.

The beast crouches forward and Cole panics and runs, sprinting through the trees, and _hears_ the weight of the creature's feet as it gives chase behind him.

He tries to _step_ faster, further, fold between but he never gets as far as he meant. He feels sluggish, slowed down.

The creature is closer, breath heavy behind him, and Cole's heart is a caged bird quaking in his chest, begging to be let free. He wants to _hide_.

" _Cole_."

A tree branch snags his shoulder, tears into his sleeve and traps him. He screams, thrashes, but can't pull loose--

"Cole!"

He gasps a breath like a drowning man, skin soaked with sweat, and hears her song shine warm, familiar, _safe_. He sits up, buries his face in her neck and clings to her, shaking.

"Twisting places, me twisting through, _skin too tight, tangled edges tear_ \--" He lets out a sob. " _I don't like it there_. I don't want to go back."

"Oh, _Cole_ ," her voice breaks as she hugs back. "It's okay, it's okay. You're safe. It was just a nightmare. It wasn't real."

"Monsters in our minds are always real," he says sadly.

"You're not there anymore," she tries instead, helpless, and hugs him harder. She runs her hand up and down his back.

He takes a slow breath. She's kneeling beside him, hunched over, holding him. He doesn't want to let her go, but he does.

She pulls back slowly, drags her hand down his arm until his palm rests in hers and squeezes. He squeezes back and looks up at her with concern.

"You were hurt," he says.

" _You_ were hurt," she corrects with a sad laugh.

"There was lightning," he says, confused. "I fell. You followed."

"I jumped. You were drowning."

"It's all very hazy," he says, then tilts his head. "You saved me."

"Guess we're even," she says lightly.

"I didn't do it for you to owe me," he frowns.

"I know. Me neither." She squeezes his hand again, and he squeezes back hesitantly.

"Ah," he says, looking around.

"What is it?"

Cole turns back to her with a dour look. "I think I lost my hat."

-

Bull smacks him on the shoulder when he steps out of the tent. "I'm glad you're okay, kid," he says seriously.

"You gave us all a scare. That was quite the fall," says Varric.

"The Inquisitor was quite worried for you, Cole," Cassandra adds. "I am glad you are well."

" _Thank_ you," Cole says earnestly.

There's a moment of warmth between them before Bull interjects, "--But did you see that _dragon_? That was amazing!"

Varric groans. "Here we go again."

"Cassandra, you fought dragons. Are they all that big? Are some even _bigger_?"

"Ugh. It was just a dragon, Bull. That is the average size, I suppose, yes. I don't see what all the fuss is about."

"It was a _dra-gon_ ," he says, drawing out the word in giddy excitement.

Evie finds herself grinning.

Bull turns to her. "Can we go fight it, boss?"

"I-- we've got other priorities at the moment, Bull," she laughs. "Undead rising, giant rift in the lake, Wardens up to no good..."

" _Please?_ " he asks, sounding nothing at all like the hulking, battle-scarred mercenary he's supposed to be.

She sighs. "If it starts attacking people, we would _definitely_ have to intervene," she says resolutely.

"Good enough!" he grins and claps his hands.

"Cole," Solas says from off to the side. Evie starts, unaware he was there. "If I may speak with you for a moment...?"

Cole, quiet at her side, looks to her and nods, then follows Solas off up the hill, his hands clenched and shoulders tight.

-

They stop at a hilltop far above camp and out of earshot. Cole stands a distance from Solas, but faces him head on.

He takes a deep breath, steels himself. "I won't be distant," he says firmly. " _Distance_ is against my nature. I am Compassion, kindness, caring. I am meant to be _close_."

"Spirits are not meant to--" Solas begins, but Cole interrupts.

"I am not a _spirit_ , Solas. Not like the ones you know in the Fade, flitting and flowing and free. I am _Cole_. I am different, unique. You said it yourself. And I want to be more, not less. I can be many things and still be me."

"You risk losing what you are," Solas says plaintively.

"No. I will help, heal hurts, _still_. But beside her." Cole stares Solas down, fists clenched at his sides.

Solas shakes his head. "I fear you are making a mistake, Cole."

"I hear, heed your warnings, Solas. But I want you to hear me. I want you to see me as I am, not as you think I should be. I pushed through, _chose_ to. I am here, helping. I don't want to go back to the Fade... not yet, maybe not ever."

Solas sighs sadly, but meets Cole's eyes. "You are indeed unique, Cole. I am sorry if you felt I did not see that. But consider the consequences... you dreamt, did you not? Went into the Fade on your own."

"I did," Cole frowns. "I didn't like it. It felt wrong."

"You realize that may happen more if you choose this path?"

Cole huffs. "Maybe. Maybe _not_. But I have chosen."

Solas nods. "Very well. Then I will support you as best I can, my friend."

Cole pauses, is quiet a moment. " _Falon_ ," he repeats. "Friend."

" _Ma falon_ , technically. You found that in my mind?"

"I heard it when you spoke. Sometimes your words have echoes of an older tongue, different sounds that ring the same. I like it. _Falon_. It sounds like a bird, wings high above, watching over."

"Very well then, _ma falon_ ," Solas says gently.

-

Sera is strangely quiet, staring at Cole's silhouette on the hill with a frown.

Evie nudges her with her boot as they sit and pack up camp. "Are you all right?"

"Oh, no," says Sera, holding her hands up. "No no no. Don't. Don't start. Don't want to talk about it. Don't want to hear it."

"Hear what?" Evie asks, off-guard.

"You _know_ what," Sera scoffs. "' _It saved you, it almost died for you. Don't you trust it? Don't you luuurve it now?'_ Just. Don't."

Evie rolls her eyes. "Glad you're all right," she says simply with a half-smile.

"Psh." Sera punches her in the arm and stomps off.

-

They seal the rift and meet with Hawke's Warden, Evie shadowing Cole with worried eyes the entire time.

She stays close when she can, knots her fingers with his, protective. Cole rubs his thumb across her hand, gentle and patient.

Blackwall watches two of them out of the corner of his eye. "You're a strange pair, indeed," he sighs. "People can lie all they like, but what they're willing to die for is always honest."

"I never lied," says Cole, and Blackwall grunts and moves off to join the others.

-

They return to North Gate camp to resupply and make final preparations to return to Skyhold. Scout Harding is there to greet them, chatting amiably and holding something familiar.

"Yeah, and take a look--" she says as Evie approaches, "I found the strangest hat!"

"You... don't remember that hat?" Cassandra asks warily.

"No," she frowns. "Should I?"

" _Cole_ ," Cassandra snaps, turning behind her to look for the spirit. Cole jumps nervously. "You cannot keep altering people's memories. _Why would you do that_?"

Cole looks down, fingers knotted together like a scolded child. "Sorry. I didn't mean to."

Cassandra gapes in disbelief. "You mean to say you erased memories _on accident_?"

"I-I got distracted," he stammers. "Forgetting works _both ways_ , and there are so many people to remember..." He tugs at his sleeve nervously.

Cassandra softens. Her voice insistent, but no longer harsh, she asks, "What does that _mean_ , Cole?"

"I-I'm not real, so I'm not supposed to stick. It's pulling too many corners of cloth together... you lose your grip and one falls away. Sometimes I let go on purpose."

Cassandra sighs and looks slightly worried. Evie walks up beside him and puts her hand on his arm.

"I'm sorry," he says, turning. "I'll try to remember your cheery dwarf friend."

"Is that why Leliana remembered you?" Cassandra asks. "Because she made an impression on you at the Spire?"

"She was... fierce, frightening. Fought to save the mages," Cole says distantly. "I remembered her name."

"You've got to be more _careful_ , kid," says Varric worriedly. "It sounds like a solid blow to the head could very well erase us all."

Evie takes a shaky breath, feels fear gnawing in her gut once again and tries to stifle it.

Cole turns to face her, grasps her hand gently. "Don't worry. I _promise_ , Evie. Not you, not _ever_."

She swallows, but does her best to laugh lightly. "I'd track you down if you did, anyway. And--" she turns toward Scout Harding, "at least you got your hat back."

Harding smiles and steps forward to hand it to her. Evie takes it and reaches up to flop it on Cole's head with a flourish. He smiles softly, eyes bright under his bangs.

" _Ugh_ ," moans Sera, "couldn't you at least wash that thing first? It's been at the bottom of a lake filled with _corpses_."

-

When they return to Skyhold, Evie isn't allowed to do anything until she meets with her advisors.

Diligently, she rattles off details of their expedition, Cullen and Leliana making comments to each other about tactical uses for Caer Bronach.

When she finishes, they praise her for a job well done and she feels emboldened to ask for something... risky.

"I'm in a... high profile position," she starts cautiously. "People might try to kill me."

"We take extensive measures to make sure you're safe," Cullen assures. "If you're worried, we can increase the guard--"

"No," she says urgently. "No, that's not what I meant. Mages who pass their Harrowings are supposed to have their phylactery shipped off to Denerim. I heard rumors the site was raided in the uprising, but... I don't know for certain what happened to mine." She lets her voice waver for effect. "If it fell into enemy hands..."

"Say no more," says Cullen. "We will track it down. We should have thought of this _sooner_."

Leliana watches Evie with sharp eyes, but nods. "I will send my best agents to investigate immediately."

"Thank you," Evie says, and lets out a shaky breath that is both real and for show.

Evie's chest feels light with the desperate, sudden hope that the little vial of blood that's held so much sway over her could be destroyed forever.

She doesn't intend to run, she really doesn't. But it is... good to keep her options open.

-

As the meeting adjourns, Evie knows there's one more thing she meant to address. She turns back to Josephine. "I have... a favor to ask," she says.

"Of course, what can I do to help?" Josephine smiles.

"I heard you used to tutor your siblings when you were younger," Evie says. "I was wondering... I know you're busy, but if you have the time, could you teach someone to read?"

"If it is important enough for you to ask, then it is something I can make time for, Inquisitor. But who would you have me teach?"

Evie bites her lip. "...Cole."

-

Evie is dismayed to find Dorian and Vivienne leaning along a railing gossiping as she leaves the war room.

Apparently they bonded while Evie was away.

"They look like they could _all_ use a bath, but the demon is worst of all," Vivienne complains loudly.

"And those _leathers_ he wears," she hears Dorian say, "do you think they were originally that color, or is that a shade only achieved through many layers of filth?"

"I think it stole those leathers off a _scarecrow_ , darling," Vivienne says dryly.

"My dear, I think even a scarecrow would be appalled at his fashion."

Evie feels her gut clench in betrayal. She wants to say something clever or biting, but she just opens her mouth dumbly.

She sends a blast of frost up towards them, but Vivienne instinctively blocks it with a barrier and a lazy wave of her hand.

"Looks like someone is defending her pet," she says dismissively.

"That was rather uncalled for," Dorian says looking down at Evie, affronted.

Evie sends a vicious glare at Vivienne and stalks out of the room.

-

She's still bothered, sitting on the ramparts later with Cole.

She tries drawing, but everything turns into only ugly scribbles, harsh lines that are all wrong. She stares out across the courtyard and thinks of clever things she should have said.

Vivienne she expected this from, but _Dorian_?

She flicks away a stray leaf that blew onto her paper angrily.

She should make a bloody announcement, release an official decree to let them all know that wherever Cole went, she would be nearby, ready to tear into anyone who treated him badly.

Cole laughs lightly beside her, startling her.

"Don't worry," he says, "they already know that."

She flushes. "I'm sorry. Am I distracting you?"

"A little, but I like it."

He reaches down and links their fingers, then points and tells her about the guardsman who is nervous, worried because he just found out his wife is having twins. The cobbler who lost his brother in Haven but now thinks fondly of him as he reads the journal Cole uncovered for him. The stableboy who has a crush on a guardsman's daughter, kissed her with a clover but now paces, gathering courage to ask her father...

Evie leans into his shoulder, listens to the sound of Cole's voice and feels calm.

-

The next day, as soon as Evie leaves the war room, Sera drags her away.

She needles her to shirk her duties and pull pranks on her advisors, gives her a mock bow and calls her _Inquisitor, Your Worship, Your Most Important Stuffyness_ in the haughtiest voice possible and makes Evie laugh until she has tears in her eyes.

They also dump a bucket of dirty bathwater on Vivienne, at Evie's request, and manage to escape with their lives by no small amount of luck.

When they settle down, Sera turns to her. "One of the cooks said your proper name is Evelyn Trevelyan. That true?"

"Yes," Evie says.

Sera cackles. "That's terrible! It _rhymes_!"

"I was named after my grandmother," Evie says with a grimace. "I never liked it much, either."

"Hmm. Hold on, I'll make you a better one." She snaps her fingers. "How about... Vee?"

"Vee?" Evie asks skeptically.

"Yeah! Because the letter V's. And they've got sharp edges--" she makes an angle with her thumb and forefinger and looks through it at Evie. "It's _edgy_ , get it?"

"You've got to be joking," Evie laughs.

Sera punches her shoulder. "It's bloody brilliant, that's what."

Evie wipes her eyes, looking through the tavern window to the ramparts, and sobers. "Sera, you know I think you're a fantastic friend and I really value your input right?" she asks hesitantly.

"Shitpiss, you want something, don't you?"

"Just... follow me."

-

When she finds him, Cole is kicking his feet against a wall on the south side of the keep.

"There you are," she says.

"Should've known it'd be about your creepier half," Sera mutters behind her, her demeanor much colder.

"Sera, please?" Evie begs softly, then turns and asks, "What are you listening to, Cole?"

"The servants in the kitchen," he says.

"I thought you already helped them," Evie says. "Made the cats act ridiculous, so the cook laughed and stopped harassing the staff."

"It helped for a while, yes, but I've hurt them, too. Too many things gone missing. Cakes for Cassandra, honey for Leliana's wine, bread for the dying soldier. Evette is being cruel to Maylene. She is jealous, she thinks Maylene is prettier. She blames the missing items on her, calls her a pig. Maylene wants to cry. I left her favorite book where she would find it, but it wasn't enough."

There's a pause, a hesitation, then Sera says boldly, "Sounds like we need to shove it up Evette's arse."

Cole pauses in kicking the ramparts and tilts his head slightly toward Sera, his posture tense, cautious. "How would you help her?" he asks.

Sera scoffs. "Well, you've got to knock this girl down a peg. Dump syrup in her hair, put a snake in her apron. You know."

"I don't want to hurt anyone," Cole says warily.

Sera rolls her eyes. "Not _hurt_ her, embarrass her. Do it in front of all the others. then next time she tries to lay into What's-her-face, someone else brings up _her_ embarrassing bit and she shuts up. Puts 'em on even footing."

Cole nods slowly as if he understands. "She is afraid of chickens," he says softly. "She doesn't want anyone to know."

Sera giggles and snorts. "No shit? And she works in a kitchen? Piss poor planning, that."

-

"Chickens are hard to move, Sera," Cole complains seriously, struggling with three in his arms. "They still think they belong in the sky."

"Oi, you wanted my help, didn't you?" Sera calls from the roof above. "Less talking, more working, Creepy."

When they have it all arranged, the chickens are hidden in a crate, the door latched loosely. As the kitchen staff head down the stairs to deliver food, Cole tugs the crate open.

Sera throws her voice from the rooftop she's perched with Evie, shouts exaggeratedly, "My _goodness_! The chickens have escaped!" before dissolving into helpless cackles.

The birds flap towards the stairs frantically, feathers flying. Evette, panicking, flips the tray of freshly made pastries she was carrying straight over her shoulder and screams.

Everyone around stares at her, then they all start laughing, slowly at first and then great gasping chuckles.

Evette stands there dumbstruck, mortified, before Maylene takes pity and nudges her arm with a light chuckle. "It's all right, there. You have to admit it was a bit funny, though, right?" She mimics gasping and throwing her plate, and turns back to Evette with a gentle chuckle.

Evette's lip twitches, and she breaks into a weak laugh, relieved.

"There, see," she says, "everything's all good." She laughs as they head off down the stairs.

Cole appears on the rooftop next to Sera and Evie, who are still laughing giddily, and asks, "Do you think she'll be kinder now?"

" _Agh_!" Sera screams, startled. "Stop being creepy, Creepy!"

"Sorry," he says.

"I think it went _perfectly_ , Cole" Evie says with a grin.

"Stop encouraging him," Sera groans.

Cole breaks into a wide grin. "You called me him!" he says.

Sera gives him a disgusted look. "I'll call you _Creepy_ 'cause you're friggin creepy."

Cole smiles and disappears off the roof to gently herd the chickens back where they belong.

"So friggin weird," Sera grumbles.

"Thank you," Evie says, "for helping."

"Tch," Sera scoffs.

"I... he's _good_ , Sera, really. It's not like what the Chantry says. It's like saying all nobles are conceited, arrogant bastards. Some are, maybe _most_ are, but there are always some exceptions--" Evie flounders, breaks off, and sighs.

Sera looks over at her curiously.

"Sorry, I guess that's a weak analogy," Evie says with an embarrassed laugh. "You think all nobles are tosspots."

"Nah," Sera says casually, staring back ahead. She bumps Evie's shoulder after a quiet pause. "I think there's one exception. You two fit each other."

Evie turns to face her, surprised. "You--"

Sera rolls her eyes and says without any bite, "But if he gets any weirder, I'm still putting an arrow in him."


	6. Chapter 6

"It's just so _quaint_ and _rustic_. The trickling stream, the misty mountains. Look there, in the distance-- is that smoke rising above that chimney? _My goodness_ , we could be in a painting."

Sera snorts. "Hope they paint the bear dung you just got on your fancy shoe."

"I wha-- _eugh_."

After resting and resupplying in Skyhold, they head out to the Hinterlands to close a rift they were unable to handle on their first visit. Dorian takes it upon himself to fill the companionable silence.

"Is he going to be like this the _entire_ way?" groans Blackwall.

"I think it's entertaining," says Bull. "City boy's gonna be in for a surprise the first time he has to take a shit."

"Wait-- they don't have privies along the way?" Dorian asks, confused.

Sera giggles.

He gapes. "How do you-- what do you use for--"

"Oh _dear_ , you forgot to bring something? Pity. There are no doubt some leaves around here that will suffice," Vivienne says dryly.

"That's cold," Varric laughs. "You're taking this much better than I would have expected from someone of your... level of upbringing, Iron Lady."

"Because I am not so foolish as to trek out into the wilderness without knowing what I am getting myself into," she says with a regal tilt to her head.

-

"Come _on_ , Dorian," Bull goads, slapping Dorian's shoulder, causing him to stagger. "You could use a bit of toughening up. No one should look _that_ pretty all the time." Dorian flounders and glares, stepping out from under Bull's arm gingerly.

"Aye," Blackwall nods. "A bit more of the outdoors would do him good."

"Excellent," calls Dorian with false cheer. "I'll get right on that. Let's camp! In fact, why don't I just stay out here? Grow a beard!" he gestures wildly. "Smell like a dead animal! Communicate entirely using _grunts_. It should be _enlightening_."

"I don't understand," Cole says from off to the side. "Why would you say that when you don't mean it?"

"He's joking, kid," Varric explains beside him. "Sometimes people say something and mean the opposite."

Cole frowns, confused. "It was meant to be funny?"

Bull snickers.

"You hear that, Dorian?" Vivienne calls from behind them. "Even the demon recognizes that sarcasm is the _lowest_ form of wit."

"My brilliance is so terribly underappreciated," Dorian sighs.

-

Varric walks beside Cole as they hike through the canyon, a quiet presence at his side.

"You doing okay, kid?" he asks softly as they walk.

Cole tilts his head. "You're worried about me," he says, a note of surprise in his tone.

"Hey now... I mean, I know you're doing all right. Just thought I'd--"

"A cautious concern, careful, clipped, but comforting underneath," Cole says. "I... appreciate it, Varric."

"Yeah, well... If you need anything, just let me know, all right? I heard you were learning to read-- I can help you practice if you like."

"Yes. _Thank_ you, Varric," Cole says with joy.

"And if you ever need to talk..."

" _Yes_ , I would like that, too," Cole says happily. "You know so many things. I would like to talk with you, and ask questions."

"Of course, kid," Varric smiles. "Ask away."

Cole doesn't hesitate. "Varric, what is a privy?"

"Ugh," Varric groans. "Well, kid..."

-

Dorian is fascinated to see Cole fight.

"A _corporeal_ spirit," he says in awe, "that _moves_ like a spirit, but can also use solid weapons." He scratches his chin, a grin on his face and a spark in his eye.

"Nice to meet you," Cole tells him politely.

"Brilliant!" Dorian laughs. " _Completely_ unexpected. Think of what he could do...!"

"How _Tevinter_ of you," Vivienne says with disgust.

-

Evie enjoys fighting alongside the other mages, seeing what they do. Solas was always silent, subtle-- never offering criticism or advice, easy to forget he was even there.

Watching Dorian and Vivienne play off each other is educational and exhilarating. They're flashy-- loud explosions of power and skill. They both have far more experience than her, but she can feel some of what they do, fluctuations in what they cast. She starts to get a vague idea of how their most powerful attacks are constructed.

She still can't manage to summon fire or lightning, but she has learned to tap into the spirit energy of her staff, send barrages of power at her enemies.

When they get ambushed by two bears at the same time, she summons an entire blizzard with the adrenaline-- though it exhausts her afterwards.

She's quite proud of herself, until Vivienne scoffs, "In case you did not notice their thick fur, darling, let me assure you: they _resist_ the cold."

-

She is getting very good with barriers at least.

She watches Cole out of the corner of her eye, throws barriers at him thoughtlessly, an unconscious extension of her worry as he walks into danger.

Sometimes in frantic moments, her barrier envelops him and explodes with force outwards, settling safely around Cole while viciously knocking enemies away.

"That's a neat trick," says Dorian, impressed.

"Yeah, but I bet it only works on him," says Varric with a cocky grin.

"What, because he's a spirit?" Dorian asks, confused, and Varric simply walks away shaking his head.

-

Cole likes her magic, says it's cool, comforting, clear-- yet warm, like being wrapped in a blanket on a cold night.

"Ugh, that makes no friggin sense. You know that, right?" Sera grumbles.

-

The rift comes into view long before they're close enough to fight it. Solas matches his step with Cole's quietly.

"Do you feel the pull of the Fade, Cole?" he asks curiously.

"Yes," Cole says, staring into the breach in the distance. "It feels like home, but it's not home anymore. The song is bittersweet."

"Do you miss it?" Solas asks.

Cole looks at him sideways. "I am _sure_ of my choice, Solas."

"Apologies," Solas bows his head. "I did not mean to offend."

Cole nods and turns back to the rift. "It's strange," he says thoughtfully. "There are parts of my past where I don't fit any longer, but the part of me that makes me "me" remains the same. Have I changed after all and can't see it? Like flowers blooming slowly: _still_ when you stare."

"Perhaps," Solas sighs, contemplative. "Time has a way of softening sharp edges. But sometimes the world just changes around us, _ma falon_."

Cole looks to him after a moment and frowns. "You're hiding sadness again."

"Do not trouble yourself, Cole. It is far too old for you to heal."

-

They battle the demons and close the rift with surprising ease.

Vivienne rains lightning down on two with a thundering crash, then slices through another with raw energy. Dorian takes out another with an explosion of fire and a taunting laugh.

Bull and Sera do what little damage they can between the mages and share a frustrated glance.

Solas stays back, watches, ready to intervene if needed. Cassandra pushes forward beside Vivienne, both guarding and pressing their advantage.

Cole cautiously takes out the stragglers that are furthest away, flinching away quickly after ambushing them, expecting a lightning crash from above at any moment.

Blackwall stays close to Evie, guarding her as she channels power into the rift. He keeps a stubborn set to his jaw as he watches the chaos around him, refusing to waste energy chasing down demons that will likely be decimated by fire or lightning before he reaches them.

Varric doesn't even unholster Bianca, he just sits back and laughs. "Easy there, Sparkler. Got something to prove?" he asks as Dorian causes one demon to literally _explode_ before Vivienne can get to it.

As things go quiet, Evie seals the tear, the green lightning tingling and sparking along her palm.

"Well, that was fun. Time to head back," says Varric.

"That's it?" calls Dorian. "I was just getting warmed up!"

"Clean up duty, Sparkler. That's how it goes. Besides, if we make good time, you'll be able to sleep in a real bed tomorrow."

" _Oh_ , right. Well, quickly, let's move along then--!" he says and Varric chuckles.

-

Blackwall end up walking beside Evie as they start their hike back. "It must be a terrible burden," he says out of the blue, "being the only one who can seal the rifts."

Evie shrugs. "It's not that bad," she says awkwardly.

"She is happy for it," Cole chimes in, next to her. "They call her Herald, herald her. If she wasn't needed at the rifts, they would keep her in the Keep to keep her safe. She'd be trading one Tower for another. Closing rifts keeps her free."

"You're right," she laughs. "When you put it that way, getting to explore the world and help people is a _terrible_ burden," she says with a smile.

"That was a joke," Cole explains, looking to Blackwall with a wise nod. "She means the opposite."

-

Evie is surprised when Cassandra strikes up a conversation with her.

"If you do not mind me asking, why were you at the Conclave? At first I thought you were just an assistant, but Cullen has heard rumors that say you were a rebel leader...?"

Evie laughs out loud. "The mages at Ostwick weren't rebelling."

Cassandra pins her with a steady gaze as they walk, waiting for her to continue.

"I... don't know what to tell you," Evie says. "When Kirkwall happened, some mages looked to me to... see what I would do. The First Enchanter sent me to the Conclave to pacify the younger mages, I think. Which is silly, because I don't know enough of anything to be helpful at peace talks."

"So they respected you," Cassandra says.

"It wasn't like that. It's complicated. Life in a Tower is..." Evie trails off and sighs.

Ahead of them, others have slowed, listening in curiously.

"I'm not a great mage, Cassandra," Evie says firmly. "Sorry to disappoint."

Dorian falls back to walk beside her and bumps her shoulder. "Eh, you're still young," he says magnanimously, then looks to her with mischief in his eyes. "Would you like me to show you a few tricks?"

She looks up at him with a cautious smile. "Would you?"

He laughs.

-

He starts by demonstrating a fire mine.

"I can't _make_ fire," Evie says hesitantly.

"I'm well aware of that, my dear," he says and winks. "You can do this with _ice_."

For his hot-headed fighting style, he teaches with great patience, demonstrating the fundamental theory for her again and again.

After countless failed attempts, a rune finally appears on the ground ahead of her, locking the charge of magic in.

"You have it!" Dorian cheers.

"But how do we test it?" she asks.

"Let me," Cole says helpfully from behind her, and she spins--

Before she can speak, he teleports into and out of the mine almost instantly.

"Cole!" Evie cries, but when the frost clears from the air he's standing a safe distance away, unharmed, a playful tilt to his jaw and a small smile on his lips.

"Don't worry, Evie," he says brightly. "I'm too fast to be frozen."

"I could have _hurt_ you," she murmurs, heart pounding.

-

It bothers her, having the mine go off without her control. She won't use a spell that could hurt someone by mistake.

As they hike, she creates mines again and again, brow furrowed. Testing.

Dorian thinks she's practicing, praises her. She smiles politely, but keeps sending magic into the ground, primed and ready. Again and again, she tries to twist it, change it.

She creates one beside a tree they pass, tosses a rock into it. It explodes.

Cole sneaks glances over his shoulder at her, curious but silent.

The magic in the rune is volatile, crackling, reaching upwards with a million tiny hands - it senses the tiniest change in the world above it and triggers.

Another rock. Another explosion.

"Her fascination with destroying foliage is concerning," Vivienne says disdainfully.

She tries to tame the magic she swirls into it. Numb it, like a deadened nerve. Threads no longer reaching for the sun, but turned inward, looking away.

Another rock. A pause... but no, another explosion. There was still a tremor in it.

"I think you've got the hang of it by now, Snowflake," Varric teases.

She _cools_ the magic, slows it. Calms it. It is tightly packed snow, curled up sleeping and content. Nothing to worry it, nothing to watch for. She whispers a thought to it, to only wake when she asks it to.

She presses the magic into the ground beside the path and throws her last rock.

There's the _thump-thump_ of the rock bouncing onto the grass, then silence.

She stops walking and waits.

Bull turns to see what's keeping her. "You mess one up, boss?" he asks warily.

She has to test it, doesn't she? She steels herself and steps forward--

"--Evie!" Cole shouts, surprised and worried.

\--right into Cole's arms. His hands grip her arms below the shoulder, hunched around her, sheltering. Reflexively, her palms come up to touch his elbows, holding his arms from underneath.

He un-tenses, looks down curiously, his hands sliding down her arms.

They're standing in the middle of the rune.

"I fixed it," she grins, triumphant.

" _Maker_ , what are you doing?" Dorian shouts from up ahead.

Cole looks at her in wonder. She steps away and tugs him after her. Once they're clear, she raises her hand and sends the tiniest sliver of her power towards it, _permission_. It explodes obediently.

She laughs. "Much better. I won't hurt anyone on accident now."

"You... altered the spell. I'm impressed!" Dorian says with relief. "Well done!"

"Indeed. That took an impressive amount of magical intuition," comments Solas with a note of respect.

"Rather defeats the purpose, though, does it not?" sniffs Vivienne.

"I _like_ it this way," Evie says, stubbornly.

"Of course, dear, if that is what you wish," Vivienne says, waiving her hand dismissively.

Evie finally snaps. "Why are you even _here_ ," she snarls at Vivienne.

The others stop and turn to watch.

"To save the world, obviously," Vivienne says coolly, one eyebrow raised.

"You don't need to be _here_ for that. You could have stayed in Skyhold."

Vivienne steps forward, her figure imposing. "I was First Enchanter to the _Empress_ , my dear. I am a highly trained, highly _powerful_ mage and I have thrown my support in with the Inquisition. Naturally, that entails ensuring the safety of its leader, the _only one_ thus far capable of sealing the rifts." She looks down her nose at Evie. "It would be a terrible embarrassment were you to be killed on _my_ watch. No matter how _foolish_ or _childish_ you may be."

"I don't need a _babysitter_ ," Evie says with a glare.

Vivienne lets out a sharp, high laugh. "One begs to differ."

Evie is angry, angry enough to do something foolish, and she _forces_ herself to cool down, takes a harsh breath and imagines ice filling her veins. She has to consider her options-- certain moves would only cause her to destroy herself.

She frowns. Wait, why would _Vivienne_ care about saving the world? "You want to be _Wynne_ ," she says in awe.

"Pardon?"

"Wynne was vital in stopping the blight. It earned her a lifetime of freedom. She went where she pleased and no one questioned her ever again."

Vivienne raises a delicate eyebrow.

"You know there may not even _be_ Circles again after this," Evie says dryly.

"There may not be _anything_ after this if Corypheus succeeds, my dear," she says diplomatically, but there's something in her eyes Evie can't read.

Cole tugs on her sleeve, tries to pull her away. Vivienne's lip curls in a sneer at him.

Evie digs her heels in. There's one last thing she needs to say. "You know you can't touch him, right?" Evie says with sharp eyes. "That no matter what you think of him, that's something I would never forgive."

"Yes, she saw that right away," Cole says softly, tugging her sleeve again. "That's why she's never done anything to me." He looks up at Vivienne with a guarded look. "She would have attacked a demon otherwise. But she does _not_ act rashly."

 _No_ , Evie thinks, _she did not_. She would act in the way that most benefits her, would never snap suddenly. It would be a slow build, there would be signs. Rumors spread about the Inquisitor's incompetence, compromised judgement. Quiet whispers, feigned concern that she shouldn't, _couldn't_ be responsible for her own safety. That she must be watched, guarded, caged. That someone _else_ should lead in her stead.

Vivienne would do that if Evie seemed likely to damage her position, or if the Inquisition seemed likely to fail.

"It's all right," Cole murmurs, tugging her away, out of Vivienne's glaring presence. "I watch out for you. I listen. It's... complicated. Quiet fears that fester. But I try."

"Be careful around her, Cole."

-

As the evening approaches and the sun falls closer to the mountains, the valley they're crossing is ringed in gold. Evie slips away from the group, hikes parallel to the path. She climbs up and up a rocky ledge as she goes and the view across the hills is remarkable. The others leave her be, giving her space to sulk.

As she climbs, her mood rises as she does. _Dorian wasn't wrong about the painting_ , she thinks.

When she gets high enough that the rocks she kick take precious moments to clink on the ground, and the ledge she walks along narrows to little over a foot, Cole is suddenly beside her, hunched and worried, precariously crouched on a rock beside her shoulder.

"It's beautiful from up here," she says, tilting her head up to him.

He looks down and fusses with his gloves.

"Oh, don't worry. You'd catch me, wouldn't you?" she teases.

"Of course. But I will _still_ worry," he insists petulantly.

She reaches up and tugs his hand. " _Look_ , Cole," she says, and points out.

"You want to draw it," he says, tilting his head and looking at her.

She smiles. "Yes, though I know it would be rubbish. The colors... I could never do it justice. The way the light _sticks_ to things, makes the mist _glow_ \--" She smiles, feeling lighter.

Cole looks at her, then looks out carefully, his hand held in hers gently.

"I think I see," he says softly.

When the sun finally dips behind the far off cliffs, she climbs straight down the rocks, then skids down the steep dirt hill the rest of the way. She stumbles near the bottom with a laugh, and Cole teleports into her and pulls her to solid ground.

She laughs into his shoulder and he doesn't let her go until he has to.

-

That night as they sit around the fire at camp, the topic of religion comes up.

Sera asks Dorian a series of moderately offensive but inquisitive questions about Tevinter beliefs. Varric skillfully dodges any attempts to put him on the spot, answering questions with questions and laughing at Cassandra's glare. Solas, when he contributes, walks a very delicate line between offending everyone and prompting worthwhile discussion. Eventually Evie gets put on the spot.

Cassandra's eyebrows raise in surprise. "You are not _Andrastian_?"

"Strange that I'm her Herald, isn't it?" Evie jokes, but sobers when she sees the disappointment on Cassandra's face. "I'm sorry, Cassandra. I... don't know what I believe. I haven't seen any _proof--_  but I'm open to ideas." She hesitates a moment, wavering, but continues-- "I _do_ believe the Chantry is a flawed, mortal institution, concerned with power and control and _more than_ prone to corruption."

"I find myself surprised to agree wholeheartedly," says Solas. "It needs to be broken down and rebuilt."

"Or... just broken," Evie says, trailing off.

Vivienne curls her lip at Evie. "You honestly think mages should govern themselves?"

"No, Tevinter is wrong, too. The mages use their power to subjugate others." She turns to Dorian. "No offense."

"Quite all right." he says, waving a hand. "I've been saying the same thing for years. How does one prevent the corruption that comes with power? A question for the ages."

"The Circle exists for that _exact_ reason, and it has done its job for centuries," sneers Vivienne.

" _No_ ," Evie insists. "They take children and imprison them for _life_ , beat them, _starve them,_ for no other crime than having magic."

Cassandra looks between Evie and Vivienne and raises her hand placatingly. "Towers are _meant_ to be a place where mages can learn to control their power, without harming others or being harmed themselves."

"It is a _prison_ , Cassandra," Evie says, turning to her. "Most mages are there  _years_ before they're even allowed outside."

Cole appears suddenly, sitting beside Evie. Head down, hat hiding him, he leans into her and touches his shoulder to hers carefully, then reaches down for her hand and laces his fingers with hers. She sighs and sits back, relaxing slightly.

Cassandra stills as she watches the interaction between them with sharp eyes. Vivienne turns away in disgust.

Varric asks Cole gently, "The Templars hurt you, too, didn't they kid?"

Cassandra frowns. "If they saw him as a demon, it would be understandable."

"No," Cole says, his hat still hiding his eyes. "There was another Cole, the first Cole. He was a mage."

"What...?" Cassandra starts.

"The Templars beat him, locked him in a cell and forgot," Cole says simply. "He starved. I pushed through the Veil and held his hand as he died. It... took a long time."

Cassandra shakes her head, speechless for a moment. "I... if what you're saying is true, that is _atrocious_."

Evie squeezes Cole's hand and nudges back against him gently, concerned. Cole looks up at her with deep, sad eyes, then over to Cassandra.

"I became what he was," he explains, "but also what he wanted to be. Alive, normal. Not magic."

"Well now," Blackwall says roughly, "normal's a bit of a stretch."

"So not possession, but mimicry..." Dorian murmurs. " _Fascinating_."

" _Easy_ , Sparkler," Varric murmurs as warning.

"The spirit in the lake called you Compassion," Evie says softly. "Do you think that's what you were before?"

"A Compassion spirit does seem most likely," agrees Solas, who is watching Dorian with cold eyes now.

"No, I still _am_. Compassion," Cole corrects fiercely. "I got lost, but I found myself. I am more now, but _still me_."

Evie watches his face and strokes her thumb across the back of his glove reassuringly.

"I am sorry for what you went through, Cole," Cassandra says after a moment. "The system _does_ need to be rebuilt. What they did was wrong. That is not what Templars were meant to be."

"They beat Evie, too," he says heavily.

"Cole--" Evie starts.

"Metal boot on your chest, cracks, bite your lip until you taste blood. Won't let them hear you scream," he murmurs.

Evie panics, looking up across the fire at Cassandra, then away, awkward. "Not my best moment," she says, pained.

"Are you _sure_?" Cole asks, turning sideways to face her. "You were protecting them. You stayed strong, a stone wall between what you said and what you felt. False words to protect others-- until the day they weren't enough, and they hurt you and laughed." He reaches across with his other hand to touch her scar. "But the ones you protected _saw_ , stood between. _Saved you_."

Evie's breath hitches, her eyes caught in his gaze.

" _I wish we had been at the same tower_ ," he says sadly. "I would have protected you, too. I wonder if you would have seen me?"

She feels choked up and looks away quickly, swallows the lump in her throat and tries to joke roughly, "You weren't quite yourself then, were you? You might have killed them all and left me standing over the corpses. Lots more trouble than it's worth." She smiles weakly. "But thank you," she murmurs and leans forward to kiss his cheek, unspeakably grateful.

"You are _welcome_ ," he says in a voice that sounds like a promise.

-

As they all finish supper, Evie feels exhausted. She has used far more magic today than ever before.

"Can we _please_ just agree to let Cole keep watch for once?" she whines. "If he wanted to kill us all, he really could have done it by now."

"But I _don't_ want to kill anyone," says Cole, confused.

"If you are truly capable of sleeping with a _demon_ watching over you, then it is far beyond my ability to disabuse you of your deluded fantasies," Vivienne says coldly. "I will take first watch, for _all_ our sakes."

Evie sneers as she climbs in her tent, too tired to pick another fight. It's been a long day and she feels raw, aching. She just wants to sleep.

She's only just lain down when a shadow pauses outside her tent.

"May I stay in here with you?" Cole whispers softly. "Vivienne keeps glaring at me."

She lets him in and curls back into her bedroll, watching him. He moves to sit cross-legged beside her and then runs his fingers over the ridges on the back of his glove, nervous.

"I'm sorry," he says suddenly.

"Why?" she asks, turning to look up at his face.

"It bothers you that they know that about you, know when you were weak. But you were _strong_ then, Evie," he says pleadingly. "Strength comes from being brought down and not breaking. You're still you, still kind. You shouldn't be ashamed."

She turns away, says nothing. He sighs.

"... But I am sorry I spoke about that without your permission."

She reaches over without looking, catches his hand with hers and squeezes. He turns his palm under hers and links their fingers gently, upside-down from where she lays and he sits.

"It's all right, Cole," she murmurs. "You're honest. You... force others to be honest. I think that's good." She sighs. " _Don't change_."

As she drifts off, she lets go of his hand. Curled on her side, she is relaxed and safe beside him. He leans forward and cards his fingers through her hair.

"Won't ask for what you can't have," he murmurs. "You smile, keep your hatreds hidden when you want to pound your fists against the comforts that cage you. Battle ready beneath, still braced for blows that never come. Weakness worn away like water washing over stone..."

He sighs.

"But you're not cold. You stayed kind, you stayed _you_. You're the one who's a wonder."

-

When she wakes, the first thing she sees is Cole's face above her, a statue with gentle eyes. He blinks and smiles softly. "Good morning."

"Good morning, Cole," she grins sleepily, looking up at him. "Weren't you bored, sitting watch all night?"

"I like listening to your dreams," he says. "Running, chasing, you face false dangers to find courage that won't falter. Untried, but fiercer than you know."

"I grew up in a Tower," she yawns. "I had to find excitement somewhere."

"You change things, sometimes," Cole says, sobering as he tugs at his glove gently. "Be careful, Evie. You have to sing softly or they will hear you."

There's a yell from outside, followed by a crash. Evie sits up quickly.

Cole tilts his head, listening. "Sera put a snake in the stew," he says.

"Ugh. Was that breakfast?"

Cole pauses, considering, then, "Yes."

She reaches into her pack and grabs some jerky, puts it in her front pocket. "Guess it's lucky I have backup," she says.

"Not luck," he says.

"C'mon," she says sleepily. "We'd better go out and show Vivienne I'm not possessed."

"She worries more than she wants to," Cole replies softly.

"She can worry all she likes," Evie says, still cross.

"You are the same, but opposite..." he says hesitantly. " _You_ aren't afraid of demons. You see them for what they are. They are honest and easy and can be fought. It's Templars that frighten you, rules you rail against but cannot break." He looks away. "You are both afraid of walls."

"Thanks for trying, Cole," she smiles gently. "C'mon." She heads out and he follows.

-

The camp is chaos. Sera sprints past while Varric shouts, "Get _back_ here, Buttercup!" Cassandra is kneeling, tightening the straps on her pack and sending a prayer to the Maker for patience in a low growl.

"Is the princess ready to go yet?" Bull calls.

Vivienne stops and turns to him. "I've _been_ ready, darling," she says dangerously.

Bull flinches. "Uh, not you, ma'am."

Dorian pokes his head out of his tent, shaving cream on his chin. "Facial hair this sculpted requires constant upkeep, I'll have you know," he says, brandishing a razor.

"Oh come _on_ ," Bull groans. "We're in the wilderness! Who's going to see? Some bears?"

"Yes. And since my stunning visage will be the _last_ thing they see, I shall do them the courtesy of looking marvelo--"

" _Inquisitor_!" comes a shout as a scout runs into camp. "Inquisitor! Help! Redcliffe is under attack!"

"By what?"

"A-a dragon!"

-

They race to the town. When they get within sight of the keep, they hear a roar. And screams.

Blackwall catches Evie's arm as she runs toward the gate. "We can't just go _charging in_ ," he says. "This is a _dragon_ we're talking about."

"There are people in danger!" Evie shouts.

"We'd be engaging a _dragon_ surrounded by _flammable buildings_."

Evie shakes her head. "I thought you wanted to be a _protector_? 'In death...'" She _fade steps_ out of his grip while his guard is down, staggering him.

"Oh, Maker," Cassandra calls as she catches up just to see Evie charge in. "Protect the Inquisitor!" she shouts to Blackwall.

-

As Evie enters the town, it's chaos. The dragon flies overhead, landing on rooftops and snapping at those running by. Houses creak with its weight, walls snap. It breathes fire sporadically, buildings catching and burning, collapsing on their occupants. Everywhere, there is screaming.

Immediately ahead of her there is a burning beam trapping two townspeople. Evie freezes the fire and kneels down to pull them out.

She hears Cole beside her, breathing heavily as he looks around frantically.

"Focus, Cole," she calls. "Can you hear the people who are trapped?"

"...Yes," he says shakily.

She sees the others running through the gate, taking in the battle, and spotting her. "C'mon." She grabs his hand and they run, further into the chaos.

-

Cassandra takes charge. "Tear its wings first!" she shouts. "We need to leave it grounded!"

"You got it, Seeker," Varric says taking aim.

Vivienne pelts it with lightning, the blasts sizzling on the edges of its thick hide. She tries a blast of ice and the dragon flinches and almost turns, but its attention is caught by a woman running under its gaze.

"Sera, go for the eyes!" Cassandra shouts. "We can distract it, draw it away from the people."

Sera takes aim and fires, her third shot hitting true as the dragon screams in pain and rears. When it recovers, it turns to her, squinting with its one good eye.

"Got it on me!" Sera shouts. "Oh, piss... I got it _on me_!"

"Run!" screams Varric.

Sera skids around a brick alley with fire licking her heels. Solas stands behind, a hand raised. He holds up a barrier behind her, flames swirling and licking against a clear blue wall.

-

Evie runs through the streets as Cole runs along the rooftops. He stops and shouts "Here!" whenever they reach buildings with people trapped inside.

Evie blasts down doors with frost, puts out fires to clear safe passages out. She shouts, coughing through smoke, for others to follow.

The townspeople flee to the far edge of town where the bridge is broken. Evie creates a bridge of frost for them to escape across instead, staggering briefly under the drain of power. She turns to Cole. "How many more are there?"

Cole looks at her, pained. "... _more_."

"Let's go."

-

The others unleash hell on the dragon. Cassandra draws its attention, skillfully deflecting blows and avoiding breaths. Bull, when he gets close, ducks under its ribcage and hacks into any part of it he can reach with a joyous shout.

Dorian unleashes an _enormous_ burst of power, sending a fireball the size of a house into the dragon's flank. The magic spreads, sparks of flame catching on nearby houses and setting them alight.

" _Honestly_ , Dorian," scolds Vivienne, as the surrounding houses crumple. "Show a _bit_ more control."

"I'd like to see you do better!" he calls.

Vivienne steps forward, gathering energy. "Very well, dear. Sit back and watch." She pelts it with ice blasts, one after another, keeping it staggered and confused, slowly escalating the damage. She remains calm and controlled, her hits unerringly accurate and perfectly timed.

It lets out a confused snarl and staggers next to a stone tower. Solas steps forward and makes a punching motion and a wave of force knocks through the tower, smashing it onto the dragon and covering it with rubble while Solas chuckles darkly.

Dorian turns to him in surprise. "I do believe you're actually having _fun_."

"I have no idea what you're talking about," Solas says with a smirk.

The dragon throws back its head in a loud cry and Solas frowns.

"What was that?" Dorian asks, startled.

Solas shakes his head. "It just summoned its children."

-

Evie and Cole get separated. He peels off to protect a man from a dragonling in an alley while she runs ahead to freeze a collapsing a roof.

As more dragonlings swarm the streets, she becomes cornered. She makes a makeshift ice ramp up to a rooftop then destroys it, keeping to higher ground.

She runs from roof to roof using thin, cracking bridges and puts out fires where she can.

The dragon is thrashing nearby, tail smashing into houses, flinching from the onslaught her comrades unleash.

Staggering, the dragon turns and tries to retreat. It flaps its massive wings, but they're singed and torn with arrows. It stays aloft for all of two seconds before it crashes into houses right beside Evie.

She runs.

It sees her, snaps its jaws, and follows, a predator's instinct in its eyes.

She goes, roof to roof, making ice bridges until her magic feels like acid in her veins. She bridges a gap over a broken roof as the dragon closes in, smashes its tail into the ice and shatters it behind her.

She slips and falls into the empty room, trapped. Immediately she stumbles, staggers upright and runs to an adjoining room, out from under the open sky.

There's one exit, a balcony door that's blocked by both a bookshelf and a wooden beam, only a tiny opening visible. She's pinned and trapped. It takes her eyes a moment to adjust to the dark and when they do, she sees huddled shapes in the darkness-- a family.

There's a tearing sound as the dragon _claws_ into the adjacent room. She's led it here.

Cole appears. "Let's go, Evie," he says, grabbing her arms.

"Wait," she says, her voice scratchy. "Can you take them, too?"

He looks over and sees the family, despair crossing his face.

"Didn't think so," she says. She stands between them and the sound of the dragon, summoning all the ice left within her, and makes a wall. The building shakes as it _rips_ away wooden logs, dirt and rubble flying.

She sees its muzzle through the gap, through the ice. It's scorched and bleeding, blinded. Dozens of arrows and bolts stick out of its scales. It's staggering, vicious, and vengeful. She can smell its sour breath.

"Run, Cole," she says.

Cole steps beside her and draws his daggers. "No," he says softly.

The dragon unleashes a blast of fire and the ice quickly melts under the heat. The second there's a gap, Cole teleports through and slashes at the dragon's throat through its thick scales. He doesn't draw much blood, but the dragon thrashes and stops the flames. It swings its head into him and hurls him across the room. He hits the wall and staggers, but glows blue with a barrier.

Evie pants harshly and stumbles, tries to summon what little strength she has left. The dragon scrambles to fit further through the gap in the wall, gnashing its teeth towards Cole. Evie cries out as she unleashes an energy barrage from her staff to distract it.

It vacillates between the two of them, unsure and frustrated.

She hears banging on the balcony door behind her and a shout. "She's in there with it!"

It lunges at Cole and she hurls a blast of ice at the side of it's face, slamming it into the wall. It twists to her and snarls and Cole jabs his dagger under its chin.

She hears a scream running toward them. The dragon thrashes, trying to throw someone off, and throws off the remaining chunk of roof with it. Evie flinches in the bright light, then hears a " _Hyaaaa_!" and a _shunk_ as Bull runs up the creature's back and embeds his axe in its skull, dealing the final blow. Bull lets out a crow of victory.

Blackwall chooses that moment to finally break through the balcony door with a grunt.

"You know, for a mage, you fight like you think you're a warrior with a shield," he says, wiping sweat off his brow and leaning against the doorway.

Cole staggers over to her and they share a look, concern and relief mixed together. She leans into his space and he bumps his shoulder with hers.

"Thanks?" Evie tells Blackwall.

"Wasn't a compliment, missy," he says gruffly.

-

"That was amazing!!" shouts Bull. "Wait until I tell Krem and the others-- they wanted to give me _so much_ shit for getting sent to the fucking Hinterlands. Oh man--"

Sera laughs. "We're a bunch of badasses, all right. They'll be singing our songs."

"You sure you need more songs, Sera?" Blackwall goads.

"Oh, piss off," Sera replies.

"I'm going to write about that," says Varric resolutely. "I am absolutely going to write about that. Eventually. Once the trauma wears off."

Dorian rolls his eyes at Bull as he struts around in victory. "You are _such_ a buffoon."

Bull laughs. "Oh, hey, Dorian... you have a little shaving cream--" he swipes his finger along the edge of Dorian's jaw and Dorian staggers back and swears, face pink.

"Maker," Cassandra sighs to herself. "I knew keeping her alive would not be easy, but I had no idea..."

"The Inquisitor and her demon were quite impressive," Blackwall says gruffly, "holding off the dragon in close quarters like that."

"Don't call him that," Evie says firmly. "His name is Cole."

Cole steps forward beside her. "And _her_ name is Evie."

She pauses, turns to looks at him. "I-- what?"

"You don't _like_ being called by those titles. You never say anything. but you want people to call you by your name. You want to be a friend, not a symbol."

Evie can only gape at him.

Cole looks at everyone. "Her name is Evie, and you should call her that."

There's a long silence, everyone startled by his fierceness.

"Very well, Evie," Cassandra says with a nod as she sheathes her weapon.

"Apologies, Evie," Blackwall says nodding to her, then turns to Cole and nods politely as well. "Cole."

"I'm still callin' her Vee and you can stuff it," Sera mutters as they all head out.

"She likes that, too, yes," Cole says in a small voice, following behind her. "And Snowflake," he adds to Varric.

"Hey, I take pride in my nicknames, kid. Only happy customers," says Varric.

Cole looks up at Bull. "She thinks Boss is strange, but you're sort of strange, too, so it makes sense."

"Yeah, well, you're _all_ strange," mutters Bull, embarrassed. "Everyone in this damn group is strange."

Evie stays back and smiles to herself, a light, silly thing she would hate for the others to see.

Somehow he still surprises her.

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Outtake:  
> Buttercup, did you just throw bees at that dragon?  
> Wut, no. It's got scales. One of em busted open when I was running.  
> ...Admit it, you were curious.  
> Shut it.


	7. Chapter 7

After killing the dragon, they return to Skyhold. The celebration lasts for days.

They don't have lodging for all the Redcliffe refugees so they start a tent city in the courtyard. Someone smuggles in a few kegs of ale and the ruckus can be heard from all across the keep.

Surprisingly, there were no deaths and only minor injuries. The architecture suffered greatly, however. After three days of drinking and recovering (and then more drinking, and more recovering), a portion of the refugees leave with Inquisition carpenters, builders, and soldiers to start on Redcliffe's repairs.

Bull and the Chargers take it as a personal challenge to keep the party going by themselves.

Rocky and Grim pound the table, cheering as Bull and Krem face off chugging mugs of ale, Krem drunkenly standing on a chair to look Bull in the eye. They spill half the liquid down their fronts, but laugh hysterically afterwards, slapping each other in the shoulders.

Dorian moans into his arms, head pillowed on the table beside them, waving his hand weakly at the noise. " _Must_ you...?"

"I know just the cure," Dalish grins and slides another glass his way.

"I knew you were my favorite," Dorian grins exhaustedly and winks.

Blackwall sits one table over, drinking vaguely beside Sera. He gestures across the tavern to where Varric and Cole sit at the bar. "So... he really doesn't bother you anymore?"

She snorts into her drink and slurs, "Creepy's just not as scary after you've seen him juggling chickens."

Bull's head shoots up from the other table and he lets out a bark of laughter. "Wait, the kid did _what_ now?"

-

"All right, kid, what's this one?" Varric asks, pointing.

"Six," Cole answers.

"And this one?" he asks, pointing to another.

"Two?"

"Yep. How about this one?"

"Seven," Cole says with a grin.

"Good job!" Varric grins back, slapping him on his shoulder. He takes another sip from his mug. "Now let's see if you remember the hands--"

The door opens loudly and Cassandra steps in, bright daylight burning through the musty haze. The noise from the Charger's corner settles for a moment before it's broken by an eruption of laughter.

Cassandra spots Varric and approaches, then frowns. "You're teaching him to play _cards_?" she raises an eyebrow at Varric. Cole keeps his hat down shyly.

"Hey! I'm helping him practice reading!" Varric defends.

Cassandra rolls her eyes. "Why am I not surprised?"

"You should sit down with us, Seeker," Varric says, spreading his arms. "The kid and I were just about to try a round of Shephard's Six."

"The children's game?" she asks dryly.

"C'mon, it'll be fun," he goads. "And I think we could _all_ stand to get to know each other better." He raises his eyebrows meaningfully and looks from her to Cole.

Cassandra lets out a sigh and Cole looks up at her, curious.

"I cannot," Cassandra says. "We have received an urgent missive-- everyone is expected in the war room in an hour. I am making certain everyone is informed." She nods at them both and leaves to talk to Blackwall, Sera, and Bull.

"She wanted to," Cole says sadly as he watches her go.

"Really?" Varric asks, turning to him sharply. He looks over his shoulder at Cassandra once more and lets out a huff. " _Huh_."

He shuffles the cards absently and Cole fidgets.

"Varric... you said I could ask you things," Cole says.

"That I did," Varric agrees. "What do you want to know, kid?"

Cole hesitates, then dives in, spilling everything in a nervous rush. "Would it make me something else to want something only for myself? To want to help one person above all others?"

Varric looks at him puzzled, then laughs softly to himself. Cole looks up, worried, but Varric shakes his head. "That's a _human_ thing, kid. The most human thing imaginable." He sobers, then looks at Cole with a sideways smile. "And if it's the person I _think_ you're thinking of, she can use all the help she can get."

Cole's shoulders relax slightly. "So you don't think it would... make me a monster?"

"I don't know much about demons, kid, but... no. No, it's a good thing, kid. The _best_. I think it would make you happy. Her, too."

"Her, too?" Cole leans forward, hopeful.

Varric leans toward him with a gentle, conspiratorial grin. "She's _all smiles_ when you're around," he says.

Cole blushes and looks down shyly. "...really?"

"Absolutely, kid," Varric says and ruffles his hair. Cole ducks away bashfully.

"Thank you, Varric," he says softly.

"Anytime, kid, Now come on, we can finish a game or two before we have to head to that meeting,"

-

When Cole arrives in the war room, Cullen is talking to Evie. "I heard about the Templars," he says. "Is that why...?"

"Not the time," Evie says cooly.

Cole _steps_ beside her, links his fingers with hers. She smiles and turns to him, the tightness in her shoulders loosening.

"What is wrong?" Cole asks.

"The Empress of Orlais is in danger," Evie says to Cole as the others file into the room. "Someone is going to try to kill her. We have to protect her."

Cole nods.

" _But_..." Evie continues darkly, "we have to attend a ball to do it." She gives Cole a dire look.

"'We'? Do you mean to say you intend to take the _demon_? To _Halamshiral_?" Vivienne laughs. "That is ridiculous."

Vivienne has been in the war room for the past hour, discussing politics with her advisors, preening over the fact that the next mission involves her area of expertise. Evie is about to test an ice blast on her smug, smiling face.

"Cole is coming," Evie says, annoyed, as she turns to face the rest of the room. Cole lets go of her hand but stays beside her.

"You realize the invitation states that only _three_ may accompany you in your honor guard," Vivienne reminds patronizingly.

"You realize they _won't remember he's there_ ," Evie snaps back. "He's coming." She looks across the table and adds with a nod, "Sera, too. Unofficially."

"Say what? Why would you want me at your prissy party?" Sera asks from where she's standing with her arms crossed by the door.

"It's not _my_ party," Evie grumbles, leaning on the war table, "and I want you to infiltrate the serving staff. Ask around, see what you can learn."

Leliana turns to Sera. "Do you have any contacts within the staff?"

Sera shrugs. "Sure, I might."

Evie raises her eyebrows at Sera. "See? Easy peasy."

"Ugh, you're gonna make me wear a shit uniform. I don't even know what it is but they're always shit."

"Be glad you are not wearing the _Inquisition_ uniform at least, then" says Vivienne scornfully. "It is a travesty of fashion."

"Lucky for you, I'm not taking you," Evie mutters.

"Darling, I don't need an _invitation_ to Halamshiral. I have business at the Palace. I will attend on my own, and I will be wearing something _tasteful_."

Evie sighs and Cole places a gentle hand on her shoulder. It grounds her and helps her focus. She relaxes slightly.

Josephine frowns and says quietly, "I thought the Inquisition uniforms were quite elegant."

"Oh Josie, red is _not_ my color," Leliana complains.

Cassandra huffs. "If we could get back to the matter at hand..."

"Right," Josephine agrees, looking back at her clipboard. "That still leaves the three official guests."

"Cassandra, you know how to handle these things, don't you?" Evie asks.

Cassandra rolls her eyes. "They are miserably boring, but yes."

"And she will be a respectable name to have beside you," Josephine agrees. "The Seekers of Truth... Perhaps the Grey Wardens as well?" She turns to Blackwall. "The support of a brave and honorable order would speak highly of the Inquisition."

Blackwall stammers, "Wha-- I, I thank you m'lady, but I don't think--"

"He can't," Cole tells Evie softly.

"Not Blackwall," Evie says.

Cullen frowns at the exchange. "You can't just--" he starts, but Evie shakes her head.

"I'm sorry, Josephine, but this choice isn't about the Inquisition's reputation. This is about protecting the Empress. Our priority should be including those most able to navigate the court and spot an assassin. To that end..." she looks to the end of the table. "Bull needs to come."

"What," says Bull dumbly.

" _What_?" gasps Josephine.

"His Ben-hassrath training is perfect for this," Evie says.

"Thanks for the vote, boss, but I don't think that'll go over well..."

" _I'll say_ ," agrees Varric.

"No..." says Cassandra. "It is actually quite logical. I agree with Evie."

"A Qunari as an official representative of the Inquisition? They'll lose their minds," Dorian says with a shocked laugh.

Evie shakes her head and sets her jaw. "The Chargers were one of the _first_ groups to support to the Inquisition, one of the only ones to come to _us_ with their offer to help. The Inquisition will stand by their allies publicly, and will honor their loyalty."

Josephine looks faint, but nods. "Very well, then. And who is your final choice?"

Evie looks between Varric and Dorian and grits her teeth. "... Dorian. You're good at navigating court politics, aren't you?"

" _Oh_ this just keeps getting better," Dorian says faintly.

-

Leliana breaks off to a side room with Sera to discuss infiltration, Dorian loudly excuses himself due to a roaring hangover, and those not attending filter out of the room quietly while Evie and Cassandra talk logistics with the rest.

Varric moves to leave, but sees Cole standing awkwardly beside the table. Unwilling to leave Evie's side early, but unsure of how to participate.

With a huff, Varric walks over next to him, drums his fingers awkwardly on the table for a moment, and then slides the gold filigreed invitation in front of him. "Can you read any of these, kid?"

Cole leans down and looks closely, frowning at the looping cursive. He opens his mouth to answer, but Josephine interrupts quietly from where she's watching them at the edge of the group.

"Ser Varric, much as your assistance is appreciated, I must assure you it is quite unnecessary," she says politely, with a touch of exasperation.

"Hey," Varric calls. "I've been helping him practice."

"Yes," she says with a raised eyebrow, "and thanks to you, he believes the alphabet begins: _Ace_ , B, C."

Varric gives her a wide grin and an embarrassed laugh. "Yeah, you have me there."

Cole looks between them, confused. "It doesn't?"

Josephine sighs and flips through the papers on her clipboard, finding one with a large alphabet printed at the back and slaps it down in front of Cole and Varric.

"Honestly..." she grumbles.

-

By evening, when the sun begins to set, planning and political discussions are still going strong, often derailed with Vivienne's gossip or Cassandra's moral outrage. Cullen has found a map of the Winter Palace and has spread it across the war table, placing markers for rooms each of them should be in charge of monitoring. "It's a _party_ , dear, not a military exercise," Vivienne chastises.

Leliana comes back into the room and stands in front of Cole, looking him up and down. Cole shuffles his feet.

"We must get him fitted for a uniform. They may forget his face, but they will _not_ forget that hat," she says. Cole moves to protest, but Leliana won't hear it, signaling a servant to bring in a box of boots for Cole to try on.

Cole sits against the wall in the corner, fumbling with the laces. Evie gravitates closer to him, sick of politics and exhausted beyond all reason.

He mumbles something, twisting the laces around his fingers, then throws his head back, frustrated. "Varric, my shoelaces won't listen," he complains.

Varric scrubs a hand over his face. "Kid..."

Evie laughs and steps closer, kneels to help. "They listen in the Fade?"

"Yes," Cole says, turning to look up at her, "if you ask nicely."

"I've never tried that. It sounds fun," she says. She ties the laces and he smiles at her. He tests the boot, but shakes his head, reaching for another.

Varric steps back, gives them space, but keeps a curious eye on them.

"In the Fade, things listen," Cole explains. "They can be helpful, if you need them to be."

"You're so polite," she laughs. "I can see the whole world changing around you, just because you asked. Somehow it suits you."

Cole sighs as he tosses a boot aside. "Here things are limp and listless, no life in them. I sometimes forget not to ask."

She picks up the boot and stares at it a moment, then has an idea. "Here," she says, scooting to sit close beside him. She tugs the laces, pulls them loose, and loops them together, tying the ends. She links her fingers through and looks up at him.

"I know it seems dull that it's just a shoelace, but... there are good things and bad things about this world. The Fade is in flux, shifting and changing all the time, whatever you want it to be-- but nothing can stick."

"Sandcastles as the tide changes," he murmurs, looking up to her in understanding. He reaches out to touch the string, plucking a tremor in it. She passes it to him and he loops his fingers through quickly, easily, like habit.

"Here is solid," she says as he pulls a loop through. "You can build on things. They won't disappear if you blink."

"Blackwall carves shapes out of wood. I would like to try that," he says, looking up at her.

Evie frowns at the string, the beginning of a cat's cradle. "I don't remember the next part."

"Here," Cole says gently, motioning for her to take the string. She threads her fingers up along his carefully, holding the string before he pulls away.

He pinches two points together in an X and lifts the string away, turning it over. "The real Cole knew how to do this," he says with a distant smile. "He tried to teach his sister."

"Oh," Evie says. "I'm sorry for bringing up sad memories."

"No, don't be," Cole says. "It was a happy memory."

They sit side by side against the wall in the corner and play. Evie looks up and notices Varric and Cassandra watching her from across the table, talking softly to each other. She blushes.

"I had another friend, at the Spire," Cole says softly. "I used to play games with him, too. He was a mage who could see spirits, the only one who could see me for a long time. His name was Rhys. I... miss him."

"What happened to him?" she asks.

"He learned what I was and hated me. I never saw him after that. He thinks I disappeared back to the Fade, I think." Cole sighs. "I didn't look for him. He is happier without me."

Evie's heart aches for him, she opens her mouth, searching for words of comfort, when Vivienne interrupts from across the room--

"Oh dear, have the children grown bored listening to the adults talk?"

"You were talking about fashion again," Evie says with a glare. Cullen is rolling up the map and the others look ready to leave, finally.

"Wrong. We were talking about the Game, which you will no doubt fail _miserably_ at playing."

"I don't _care_ ," Evie says, leaning her head back against the wall with a thunk.

Vivienne just stares at her, then gives Josephine a beleaguered look. "Pity."

As she leaves, Evie mutters under her breath, " _Bitch_."

Cole turns to look at her in dismay. "No. _No_ , Evie. Don't let her make you mean."

"What?" Evie asks, sitting up.

"You could have been the same."

"I'm not like her," she defends.

"She has endured, pulled herself free, but it festered. No forgiveness for those who have fallen to what she feels she has overcome. Cruelty breeds _itself_ , cascades through cycles. Don't you understand?" he murmurs. "You need to forgive her, Evie. For _you_."

Part of her feels ashamed, chastised by the one whose opinion matters the most to her. It stings.

He sets the shoelaces aside and reaches for her hands. She turns toward him cautiously, leaning sideways against the wall, and he twists to match her. Her face is close to his shoulder, and she looks up at him sadly and sighs.

"You're right, Cole. I _know_ you're right. You always are. It's hard but... I'll try." She shakes her head. "No, I won't try. I _will_. I promise. I will."

Cole leans forward and kisses her cheek softly, his blond eyelashes brushing closed on his cheeks.

"C-Cole?" Her pulse flutters.

"You kissed me before and I liked it," he says, smiling as he settles back. "It meant gentle gratitude, kindness. It meant I was special above all others."

"And... am I...?"

" _Yes_ , Evie," he says patiently. Evie looks down at their linked hands, smiling. Cole watches as she traces her fingers over his.

Cassandra stops in front of them and they both look up. "We're done here," she says gently. "The two of you should get some rest. Tomorrow will be important."

-

Evie retires to her room, but stays up, anxious and unable to sleep. As she tosses and turns, a thought occurs to her-- it sinks its claws in and suddenly she's up and pacing.

Cole lost a friend. A dear friend. A close friend. He misses him. He thinks he hates him, but what if he's wrong?

Part of her selfishly doesn't want Cole to find him. What if he liked Rhys more? What if he left with him?

But she wouldn't let that poisonous part of her anywhere near Cole. The only thing that mattered was helping Cole, having him be happy. She would focus on _that_ , act on _that_ \-- the rest she would wall off and ignore.

But how to help him with this?

As hard as it was to imagine, Rhys might _actually_ hate Cole. And if that was the case, she didn't want Rhys anywhere near him. If he thought Cole was gone, she would keep it that way.

But if Cole was wrong...

She goes to her desk and gets out a paper and quill. She starts writing six times before stopping, crumpling papers in frustration.

She has to write something that would prompt Rhys to say something in support of Cole if he is still fond of him, but will also make it clear if Rhys fears or hates Cole, all without _actually mentioning_ Cole's name or implying his existence.

She stands up and paces the room, frustrated. She has no idea how late it is. She'll be exhausted tomorrow. Her hands shake.

She has to calm down. She can't let this be a worry, a fear, something Cole can see. It would only cause him worry, cause _him_ pain if it doesn't work out.

It has to be a puzzle, a problem. Cold logic and nothing else. She takes a slow breath.

_Enchanter Rhys,_

_Rumors have reached me that you are a skilled spirit medium. Am I to understand that you can converse with demons? The Inquisition may have use for someone with your unique talent._

_Please send word if you would be interested. I assure you, adequate compensation would be provided._

_The Inquisitor_

She frowns at the signature, feeling utterly ridiculous, but she reads back over it. And then she reads it again.

It _might_ work. Using the term demon instead of spirit might prompt him to correct her if he believes not every being from the Fade is evil. And the offer of payment for what sounds like a morally questionable task would show if he was unscrupulous, or otherwise unworthy of Cole's respect.

It isn't much, but it could tell her something. And it wouldn't endanger Cole.

She sighs, seals the letter with wax and stamps it, writes instructions on a separate page for Leliana.

Then she lays down and tries to sleep.

-

They mean to depart before dawn. Evie dresses blearily in the uniform left for her by the dim light of candles.

It _is_ a bit ridiculous, she admits, and certainly not what one would daydream about wearing to a ball... but part of her _likes_ it. She likes the fact that her companions will all be wearing the same, that they will appear as a united front, and she will simply be one of them-- the same, not above them. Not alone.

She will be stepping into a dragon's den, into battle, and she will be dressed as a soldier, not as a doll. It could be worse.

She laughs at herself in the mirror. Red really isn't her color, either, she thinks.

-

In the courtyard, two carriages are readied.

Leliana and Josephine climb into one, giggling far too excitedly for the early hour. Cullen and Cassandra join them a moment later, stone-faced and silent.

Dorian claims the other carriage first and complains loudly about having to share it with Bull.

"Sorry to disappoint, big guy, but I'll be riding up top. Horns don't fit well," he jokes.

Sera climbs on top beside him. "Way more fun up here," she says. "Inside's too stuffy."

"I think I'll ride inside with Dorian," Evie yawns. "That way I can nap without killing myself."

Evie learns that Vivienne has apparently left overnight in her own, _far more fashionable_ carriage, and she feels no small amount of relief at that turn of luck.

She looks around for Cole and he appears beside her, awkward and fidgeting in bright red. He tugs the tight sleeves of his uniform, trying to pull them over his knuckles futily.

"Where would you like to ride?" she asks.

"With _you_ ," Cole says, and she must be tired because she could swear there was a very strong, unspoken _obviously_ attached.

They settle inside, Evie pounding her fist on the wall after a minute of listening to Sera kicking her legs joyfully against the side, joking loudly with Bull.

Cole chats with Dorian politely as she settles against his shoulder, exhausted.

-

She must fall asleep because the next thing she knows there's bright morning light streaming through the window. The carriage rocks rhythmically, side to side.

"Good morning," Cole murmurs to her with a gentle smile.

"The sleeping beauty awakens!" Dorian cheers. "I must say the trip has been quite boring so far, just a _tremendous_ amount of trees. Would you like me to show you another spell?"

She laughs and nods. "Yes, but not anything that would set the carriage on fire, please."

"Hm, fair enough." He thinks for a moment, then snaps his fingers and summons a wisp.

Cole grins delightedly as it floats around the carriage. He holds out his hands and it alights above his palms. "Hello, small one. I am Cole," he tells it brightly.

  
_Art by[littleoddstar](http://littleoddstar.tumblr.com/post/137728160811/hello-small-one-i-am-cole-so-ive-been)_

Evie grins. "That's fascinating."

"They are uniquely useful," Dorian explains. "They give off light, they can complete small tasks, and can get to places that would otherwise be impossible to access."

Evie reaches her finger over to poke the glowing light and it _shivers_ , and her finger tingles like touching static electricity.

"And what's more," Dorian continues, "in battle you can send them at your enemies and they explode! It's _delightfully_ flashy."

Cole flinches beside her, tugs the wisp closer protectively. Evie frowns at Dorian.

"Shall I teach you?" he asks brightly.

"No thank you, Dorian, I'd rather not," she says stiffly.

Dorian waves his hand, "Yes, you southerners have quite the taboo against necromancy, don't you? Ah well, don't worry, my dear, there are plenty of other spells I can teach you."

Cole whispers something to the wisp and it flies out the window, slipping through the glass and into the passing forest.

"Oh, and that's the downside," he laughs at it. "They're quite easily distracted."

Cole frowns and stares at the floor, and Evie has a cold feeling settles in her stomach.

"I wish I could summon one such as Cole." Dorian murmurs. "He is endlessly fascinating."

"That would be blood magic," Cole says softly. "And you would twist me into something tangled to tear through."

"I know, I know," Dorian laughs, waving him off. "Still, you're quite lucky to have him."

Evie opens her mouth, unsure of what to say. "...Thank you?" she tries, but it feels off, like they're speaking of two separate things.

-

The ride continues on a bit longer in awkward silence before they arrive at the palace gates. As their carriage rolls to a stop, Evie hears murmuring outside. She takes a shaking breath, twisting her hands nervously. Cole places a gloved hand over hers, doing his best to smile comfortingly.

When the carriage door opens, Cole gets out ahead of her, then turns back and holds out his hand, his other arm behind his back. "Am I doing it wrong?" he asks softly, unsure. "I've seen this scene before, but I have trouble telling thoughts that are true from ones that are only wishing."

Evie steps out and takes his hand. "Perfect," she says with a smile.

Knowing she _can't_ makes her want all the more badly to embrace him, but already there are nobles looking their way, whispering.

She squeezes his hand between hers one last time and lets go. "Time to be brave, Cole," she says, taking a deep breath.

Cole mimics her, takes a deep breath as well, and looks toward the nobles.

"This will be a challenge," she says grimly.

 

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> What do you guys think-- too long?
> 
> This story keeps expanding like a scrunched up straw wrapper with someone dripping water on it. 
> 
> I thought I jumped around too much so I was trying to flesh stuff out more- but this whole chapter is like, 4000 words in 3 rooms, so I'm worried I overdid it? Does it get boring in the middle?
> 
> Also, fun fact: Chapters 7 + 8 were originally dubbed "Chapter 3" in my outline, and were the halfway point.


	8. Chapter 8

Evie knows she is not uncommonly powerful, nor is she uniquely clever. It's only by a random twist of fate that anyone even knows her name. But now, as she walks into the Winter Palace to face the Empress's court, somehow it's the utter surreality of it that makes it easy to pretend.

She slips behind a wall in her mind, easily, almost second nature. She keeps her face stern, her eyebrows furrowed. Her gaze is cold and distant, untouchable. She keeps her words brief when approached, lets others read what they will into her silence.

She hears nobles titter as she walks past, _aghast_ at rumors the Inquisitor is a mage, but they stop short when they see her, stand frozen with their hands in the air. She holds her head high and stares them into silence before passing.

Cassandra and Cullen share looks of surprise as they make their way through the garden, neither sure what to make of how she handles herself. Leliana grins and whispers to Josephine, "Just think, Josie, if you'd listened to me and gotten her a _gown_ \--"

She feels a tremor deep in her chest, a reluctance to step back into this, but she steels herself. Sometimes you have no choice but to become what you need to be to survive.

"Or to help," Cole murmurs softly beside her.

She turns to him and the tremor in her chest turns into a lump, solidifies. She stops walking, opens her mouth to speak, but is unsure of what to say.

"You're far away, a falling echo," he says softly as he stops, nearby but not too close, keeping a polite distance in front of prying eyes. "I think I understand, though. It's like wearing armor."

She swallows thickly, nods, then turns to continue forward. The sound of his voice makes her feel real again, if only for a moment. She's not sure if that helps.

-

Soon after they enter the palace, they take their places outside the ballroom and wait to be announced. Evie looks around for Cole but he has disappeared, so instead she stares at the door blankly, wondering if she can start counting down the hours until it is over if it hasn't technically started yet.

Cullen tugs at his collar miserably. "All we have to do here is focus, stick to battle plan--"

Leliana smirks from where she's leaning against the wall. " _Battle plan_? We are to do battle on the dance floor? I'll admit, I heard stories in Antiva--"

"I-- yes, all right, _fine_. It's not a battle. It's a party." He rubs a hand across his forehead and sighs. "I should have eaten before the trip."

"There will be food available after the first round of dances," Cassandra says dryly.

"Yes, but it's _Orlesian_ ," Cullen complains. "Some of the things they consider food utterly baffle me."

Bull laughs. "If you're starving, I bet the boss can help you out."

Evie looks up, shaken from her thoughts, and raises an eyebrow.

"Was that supposed to be _innuendo_?" Dorian asks mockingly.

"What? Ha! Get your mind out of the gutter, Dorian," Bull grins. "When I give you an innuendo, _you'll know it_ ," he says darkly, with a hooded stare.

Dorian, for all his refined Tevinter upbringing, splutters.

"But no," Bull says, speaking normally again to Evie. "Don't think I didn't notice your packrat tendencies, boss," he says, nudging her with his elbow.

Evie feels thrown off balance. She blushes and pulls a handful of candies from her pocket silently and offers them to Cullen. He thanks her with an embarrassed smile and takes one.

She looks around to the others, holding out her hand.

"Don't mind if I do," Bull grins as he takes one.

Leliana leans forward and takes one as well with a sly smirk and a nod of thanks. "How quaint," she murmurs.

"Oh, dear, no," says Josephine, holding up her hand. "I am far too nervous."

"I thought you did this all the time," Evie says softly.

"Me? Yes," Josephine nods. "The rest of you... _goodness_..."

"How bad can it be?" Dorian jokes, and Josephine gives him a look that could sour milk.

"What was the dowager's name again?" Cullen asks as he chews.

"Lady Mantillon," Josephine replies automatically. "And don't talk with your mouth full."

Cullen's eyes widen and he gulps audibly, raising his hand in front of his mouth. "Right, sorry! And who was the third cousin of--"

"Oh, for goodness sake, let Josie and me handle it," Leliana says to Cullen, rolling her eyes exaggeratedly. "You just go in and look pretty."

A bell rings and Josephine starts to attention. "All right," she claps, looking around. "Remember everyone, stand up straight, smile, be _gracious_ and watch your words-- especially you, Cassandra--"

"I would never--!"

"--keep your hands at your sides, elbows bent. Take slow, even strides: do _not_ look rushed--"

" _Relax_ , Josie. It will be fine," Leliana says.

As the grand ballroom doors groan open heavily, there's the clack of heels as Vivienne steps out of the shadows from behind the group. She's wearing an elegant silver gown, an intricate mask, and an expression like steel.

"The only advice you must remember is this--," she says, looking across all of them cooly, "They wish to see you fail, see you _brought down_ , cowed and broken. Do _not_ give them the satisfaction."

And with that, she strides gracefully into the ballroom, entering exactly as the announcer calls her name.

-

Sometimes strangeness can be an asset. Her pale hair, her cold eyes, her grey scar, cutting across her skin like ice fracturing. She wears it proudly--let them see her as something more than she is. Let them be unsettled, intimidated.

She remembers that it's only a tool. If they see her as strong, they will flock to her cause. More people to fight the rifts, more support. Corypheus's threat suddenly becoming real to them in the presence of the phantom they make her out to be, a harbinger here to haunt their gilded halls.

She doesn't mind if she's empty, a tiny soul inside a large shell of expectations. She's made it this far in life bluffing. It's easier than she remembers.

Vivienne watches as she deflects another question about herself, repeats another answer about the Inquisition, and does her best to let her presence speak for her rather than her words.

"There may be hope for you yet, darling," she says with a smug grin.

Evie feels sick.

-

She misses Cole terribly. She wants to be out, away from here. Done.

She speaks with both Celene and Gaspard and she is careful, promises nothing to either of them.

She does her best to hide the tremor in her hand as one of Celene's handmaidens hands her a drink. She holds it politely, not taking a sip, and sets it on a stone ledge as she passes.

At least she doesn't have to pretend to smile and laugh-- she's the Inquisitor. Looking too serious is considered appropriate.

-

By the time the second round of dances start, Evie feels no closer to finding the assassin. She's circled the length of the ballroom twice and hasn't noticed anyone or anything out of place. She keeps Celene in view at all times, hoping she would be able to stop an attack aimed at her. She is glad she brought Bull, Cassandra, Leliana... those with experience at this. She feels like a child pretending to be a guardian.

As she walks past the ballroom entrance again, Vivienne catches her eye from the other room, tilts her head for her to follow.

Evie hesitates, taking one look back at Celene in the distance. She is reluctant to let her out of her sight, but she sighs and reminds herself that her allies are watching as well.

She follows Vivienne through the palace, cautious but curious. When Vivienne stops in the garden, Evie approaches.

"I take it you have made no progress thus far," Vivienne says bluntly.

Evie frowns. "No. Have you?"

"You mustn't look like we're discussing something so _serious_ , darling. Pretend I just said something amusing." Vivienne laughs brightly.

The best Evie can manage is a weak chuckle, but Vivienne seems to accept.

"My old quarters were on the balcony over there," she says, her eyes darting to the ledge behind Evie. "The apostate Morrigan is no doubt using them now. If she is involved with the threat, there may be breadcrumbs left behind," she explains.

Evie turns to look behind her, but Vivienne places a hand on her shoulder roughly, still smiling brightly. "You mustn't _stare_ , darling," she says, and then laughs falsely again.

Evie gives her a polite smile and shrugs her hand off.

Vivienne continues undeterred. "There is a hidden switch in the bookcase, that will give you access to the rest of the wing. The personal quarters, however, can only be accessed by a mage. You must light the urns, first the three on the right, then the three on the left. Remember that, darling."

"You don't think she would have changed the security measures?" Evie asks.

"That protection is built into the very stones. She _could not_ have changed it. Any additional defenses, however, will be left to you," Vivienne warns.

"I still don't know how to get to those rooms," Evie reminds.

"You're young, are you not? You can climb up using the rose trellis."

"You must be joking."

"I will distract them, darling, but you must hurry. And you mustn't be caught out of bounds, or away so long your absence is noted."

Oh, _is that all?_ she thinks, but she bites her tongue. _You promised Cole_ , she reminds herself. "Thank you, Madam Vivienne," she grits out. "I appreciate the help."

Vivienne raises an eyebrow, surprised. "Of course, my dear. I wish to save Her Majesty as well. Now go, and be cautious." Vivienne steps gracefully to the front of the garden and clinks a manicured fingernail against her wine glass. "If I may have everyone's attention?"

Evie slinks past and she's halfway up the trellis when an image vividly plays in her mind of Vivienne gasping, pointing, shouting _Oh dear, what_ is _the Inquisitor doing?_ ...but Vivienne stays true, and Evie gets up the wall undetected, to no greater surprise than her own.

Exploring the guest wing is an unexpected relief. She feels as if she's coming up for air, being out of the public eye. She's not yet sure how she'll convince herself to go back.

She takes stubborn delight in being herself as she searches, a spring in her step. She kicks a stone with relish, jumps over a low couch, and hums softly to herself.

And through it all, she _misses_ Cole. She hopes he is all right.

-

When she finally finds him in the library, he's curled over the balcony railing, fingers frantically twisting a strand of his hair. She rushes to his side.

"Cole, what's wrong?" she asks, placing her palm gently on his shoulder, standing close beside him.

"I don't _understand_ them," he whines. He turns toward her, fidgeting helplessly, head down. "Their hurts are _strange_ , twisted up and hidden, tiny knots upon knots-- I-I tried to unravel them and I made it worse."

"Oh, _Cole_ ," she soothes. "Hush, it's all right." She runs her hand over his back gently.

"They hold unhappiness up like honor. Why would they _do_ that?" he frowns.

"What if you just listen tonight, and watch?" she tries. "Untangle the simple hurts that you've seen before, but leave the strange ones alone and try to learn from them."

He shakes his head. "I can't _not_ help. Solas says that would make me a demon."

Her heart jumps into her throat at that, pure reflex.

" _No_... now I've upset you, too," he sighs, his face twisting. "I don't know what to _do_..."

He looks up at her and finally meets her eyes, the pale blue all the more washed out beside his brilliant red uniform. She feels terrible, selfish for bringing him here. He's suffering because of her.

"Could you... help me?" she asks, soft and hesitant. "This is all strange and exhausting. I would... feel better to have you at my side."

"Would you?" he asks, doubtful. But then he looks through her and his eyes widen. "Oh... I keep you here, but I give you _courage_ ," he says in awe. "It balances out. I _could_ help."

She looks down, embarrassed.

"But--" he frets, "Josephine said stay away, stay out of trouble. If I stray too close to the spotlight they may ask questions. I am strange, distracting. An embarrassment to be seen with."

" _Josephine said that_?" Evie demands, protective.

"Not out loud. She was very polite out loud. But she's worried, and she's right-- I'm not good at this. I don't _understand_."

"Cole..." Evie hesitates, her voice shaking, "what if you stayed by me and didn't let any of them see you?"

His frown deepens, then his entire face lights up in wonder. "I... yes. Yes! That would _help you_. _I_ would help you! You would feel safer, calmer. Strong, but still yourself."

She grins and nods. "They'll never know. It will be secret. I'll pretend, but you'll be close and--" she breaks off, smiling and giddy.

" _Yes_ ," he says enthusiastically.

He leans forward and hugs her fiercely, his arms tight around her middle. She melts into it instantly, returns it with equal force.

"You're helping _me_ ," he says into her shoulder. "I heard you trying to find me, worried, restless. _Where is he, is he well, why haven't I seen him yet?_ You found me and now I'm better, and you're better." He pulls back to look at her. "You heal more than you think."

She hears a bell ring on the lower level and steps back reluctantly. She grabs his hand and laces their fingers, excited. Her heart pounds.

"Well, let's go make sure Celene is all right. Come on." She laughs giddily and he echoes it.

She keeps hold of his hand as they walk back into the party, and suddenly she feels the greatest challenge of the night will be stifling her bright grin.

-

She feels invincible with him at her side. Cole whispers secrets in her ear about people they pass.

_"He's afraid they'll notice he tore his coat sleeve on the way in."_

_"She wants the man in blue to notice her, but he only wants to talk to the old lord about business."_

_"He feels sick. He should_ not _have eaten the cheeses."_

What frightened her an hour before is suddenly novel and fascinating. She explains what she can to Cole when he asks, answering in quiet murmurs when others are out of earshot. Cole listens to her thoughts so easily and so often now, though, he seems to hear even the answers she doesn't say.

-

"I'd ask what you were thinking letting them see you dragging the kid around by the hand like that, but they _don't_ see, do they?"

She rolls her eyes at Bull.

"Somehow I don't think that's what Josie meant when she said you could bring him if he stayed out of sight. Skirting things a little close, there, aren't you boss?"

"She was lost at sea, sinking silent. Now she feels safe ashore. I'm helping," Cole says with a pleased smile.

"Yes, well, he was overwhelmed," she defends. "He can focus better now. And you know we need him for rooting out the assassin."

"Of _course_ ," Bull agrees with a wicked grin. "Very practical. A mutually beneficial agreement."

She slaps him on the shoulder, then regrets it instantly as nearby nobles hush and raise their eyebrows disapprovingly. Bull smirks.

-

Josephine sees them and her eyes bug out.

Evie tries to subtly raise her hands in placating gesture. Josephine looks like she may faint.

"It's _okay_ ," Evie whispers when she gets close. "They can't see him."

"Maker's breath-- are you sure? You _cannot_ afford to be wrong!"

"I am careful, Josephine," Cole promises. "I would not let Evie be hurt or hated because of me."

-

Cullen frowns when she explains. "Even if others can't see him, it's foolish to have him around. A senseless, unnecessary risk."

"Cole is _completely_ necessary," she says, and refuses to hear another word.

-

Sera snorts when she sees them. "You're bloody ridiculous. Like a two headed monster."

"This is nerve wracking," Evie repeats. "It helps to have his support."

"Hey, whatever. Long since stopped trying to argue," Sera scoffs. "Almost wish they could see him, though. Give 'em a right fright. Bet some of them rufflebitches faint or piss themselves. It'd be friggin hilarious."

"You called me _him_ again," Cole grins.

"Oh, sod off."

-

He touches his hand to her arm, her shoulder, to the small of her back like an anchor. Drifting around her, but staying close, always in contact. He spins his head, pivots around, listening to so many different people, fascinated, but always touching, grounded, never drifting too far away.

She feels safe.

-

They see a noble who looks upset. Cole tugs her closer, gently, while he tilts his head to listen. "It's a simple hurt," he says. "He lost one of his grandfather's cufflinks."

Evie notices, then, the way the noble's eyes dart around the floor, frantic but trying not to cause a scene.

"He wanted to impress the girl in the green dress. He barely got an invitation, tried so hard to be here. Kind and honest, he doesn't belong."

They both keep an eye out. Eventually Cole points to a noble in a snooty mask.

"He found it, put it in his pocket. No matching pair but he can sell the jewel."

Evie frowns and thinks of a lie. "Let him see you, just for a moment," she whispers to Cole.

As she approaches, the noble flinches, his eyes darting just behind her shoulder. Evie doesn't hide her smirk.

"Do you know who I am?" she asks. "My organization is quite powerful, you know. The notion that I would come here with only three guards-- _ha_. I have an entire network of agents keeping an eye on things, using special techniques to remain unseen even in a ballroom full of guests."

The noble gapes at her. She stalks closer.

"Now, this might seem rather trivial, but one of my agents was concerned. He says you pocketed something that wasn't yours. I'm asking you to give it to me, and I'm asking nicely. I hope you _don't_ listen, because then I'll have the opportunity to publicly embarrass you in front of all of these people. That was, after all, not the _only_ thing my agents saw you do tonight."

The man stammers and hands her the cufflink, his face white as a sheet behind his mask. She thanks him and he hurries out of the room. In his haste, he nearly walks into a suit of armor, flinching away from it terrified.

She stifles a laugh and squeezes Cole's hand as they walk away.

"What else did he do?" Cole asks, confused.

"I don't know," Evie murmurs. "There's usually something."

She goes to give the cufflink back, but pauses. Maybe they can help two people instead of one? She could give it to the girl in the green dress to return. Is she kind? Would she hurt him?

"Wait," Cole says, touching her shoulder. He walks away and whispers to the girl in green. The girl looks up. "Now," Cole nods.

"Pardon me, Madam, I found this on the floor and I must be leaving. I think someone over there was looking for it. Would you mind returning it for me, please?"

The girl nods and helps. Evie leaves the room with Cole, but pauses in the doorway to look back.

"What did you say to her?" she wonders.

"That he would love her for her heart, not her mask."

"I hope they will be happy," Evie says, and Cole hums beside her.

-

"Well, well. What have we here?" comes a voice from behind her.

Evie turns to see a woman descending the stairs, dressed in dark red velvet and lace. She wears no mask.

"The fabled Herald of the faith sets foot in the Imperial Court, and for once the rumors seem quite dull compared to the _truth_ ," she says, smirking. "'Tis long past time we spoke, it seems, Inquisitor."

"She's... different," murmurs Cole from behind her. "Her magic sings with ancient songs. She has walked the winding ways between worlds. Thunderstorms and nightshade, the crunch of leaves on the forest floor. Black of a raven's wings..."

There is no doubt then, Evie thinks. This is the apostate Morrigan, Celene's occult advisor.

"I must confess my surprise," says Morrigan as she approaches. "I heard you were _interesting_ , but to set foot in the Winter Palace with a demon at your shoulder? _My_ , what would your worshipers think?"

Cole yelps, "She can see me!" and hides his head against Evie's back.

Evie's blood freezes and she understands in that moment that Morrigan is dangerous--that Cole was in danger. What she said here could protect him, or doom him.

_I don't mean any of this, Cole_ , she pleads in her thoughts. _Please don't believe it. Please_.

His fingers tighten in the back of her coat in response.

"He's a demon that can read intentions," Evie says with false confidence. "Incredibly useful for rooting out a hidden assassin, wouldn't you say? And if you are who I'm certain you are, then I think you would be the _last_ to fault using the most effective tool for a task, however... _prohibited_."

"As I said, interesting," Morrigan says with a shrewd look, "If you wish to hunt the assassin, then I bid you continue." She waves her hand ahead of them.

"How gracious of you."

"Oh, I am most gracious indeed. In fact, I shall even offer this--" she reaches into a hidden pocket and pulls out a key, dangles it in the air with a raised eyebrow before depositing it in Evie's open hand. "T'was found on the body of an agent of Tevinter, killed this night in these very halls. I am... _curious_ to see what you do with it."

"Where did you get this?" Evie asks with a frown.

"Why, 'twas I who killed him," Morrigan laughs. "I must be getting back. Let your pet judge me, we shall see how effective a tool he is. I must admit, it would make things _delightfully_ simple." And with a swirl of her dress, she leaves.

As soon as she's out of sight, Evie drags Cole to a quiet corner, out of sight behind a statue. He's frightened, his hands shaking.

"I'm so sorry," she says. "I've upset you twice now by bringing you here. You don't have to stay--"

He folds his fingers in the front of her uniform and shakes his head. " _No_ ," he says fiercely. "Where you go, I go. It is a promise."

"Cole--"

" _You won't leave me behind_ ," he says and looks into her eyes, focused and fervent. "I'm all right."

-

After Morrigan, Cole stays closer, quieter-- slightly shaken, but he keeps a stubborn hold on her sleeve.

He does, in fact, help find the assassin in the end as well.

When Florienne approaches, Cole tugs Evie back jerkily.

" _No_ ," he says firmly.

Evie tries to play off the motion as a shake of her cuff to any watchful eyes. She tilts her head slightly towards Cole, subtly questioning.

" _I don't like her hat_ ," Cole whispers, and stares at her pointedly.

What? She doesn't have a-- _Oh_ , she thinks. She _insists_ on declining the dance, makes an urgent excuse to get away. As soon as she's out of earshot, she murmurs to Cole. "She's the assassin?"

"Yes," he says.

"We need to tell the others."

-

They save the day and set things right, and afterwards Evie steps out onto the balcony for fresh air. She is exhausted. Cole shadows her still and she isn't surprised. His presence is silent, calm, contemplative, sitting on the railing beside her and kicking his feet. She leans forward against the railing, her shoulder brushing his side, and lets the wind blow in her face. She feels herself start to relax.

That is, until Morrigan approaches.

"Ah, good, I have caught you with your demon. 'Twill make this simpler," she says.

Cole stands and moves beside Evie, shoulder to shoulder this time instead of hiding behind, _braver_ , though he still won't meet Morrigan's eyes.

"By Imperial decree, I have been named liaison to the Inquisition. At the order of the Empress, I will relay any forbidden or arcane knowledge that would assist you in your battle against Corypheus. Confer with your demon. I shall wait," she says with a bored wave of her hand.

Evie turns to Cole who frowns and says simply, "She is torn, troubled. She doesn't _want_ to come with us."

"Few save the most mindless of soldiers welcome reassignments with open arms," Morrigan says, rolling her eyes.

"The Inquisition has enough help, it doesn't need to seek it from the unwilling," Evie says with a frown.

"I hardly think you have any help like _mine_ ," Morrigan scoffs pridefully. " _But_ , if you would reject my offer, then I have no choice but to relay my regrets to Celene."

"Either we need you or we don't. Which is it you want, then?" asks Evie.

"It's not that." Cole interrupts, shaking his head. "She doesn't trust us, but won't leave him behind. She's _worried_. He's outside, other, _Old_ \-- ah!" Cole gasps in pain and staggers forward.

" _Cole_!"

Evie grabs him around the shoulders and turns his face towards hers, checking for obvious marks. His eyes are shut in pain.

"What did you do to him?!" she screams at Morrigan, clutching Cole tightly.

"Tis' fair punishment for trespassing where he doesn't belong!" Morrigan snarls, but she looks startled.

"Cole, what's wrong? Please." She's frantic, smoothing her hands across his face, through his hair. He's breathing heavy and won't open his eyes. She turns to Morrigan again. " _You stay the hell away from him_. I'll kill you if you touch him, I don't care how much forbidden magic you know."

"Oh," Cole says weakly, and he lets out a breathy gasp. "I see now. Her fear."

"Cole?" Evie asks, her tone pleading.

He shakes his head, gives her a strained smile. "No. It's all right now. She can come with us after all."

"The _hell_ she will," Evie snaps.

"She didn't see before."

"See what?"

" _Us_ ," he says gently, placing his hands over hers on his cheeks.

Evie's breath hitches as he stares into her eyes so earnestly. She blushes and looks back at Morrigan who is watching with sharp eyes and a glare, but it appears her panic has faded.

"I don't _understand_ ," Evie says, helpless, as Cole lowers their hands.

"Someone very dear to her," Cole begins, looking up into Morrigan's face carefully, "is strange. Different. Like me, but _not_ like me." He turns to look at Evie. "Not a spirit, but different."

"What does that matter?"

"She thought you used strange things as tools, for power. She has known many who would," says Cole.

Evie makes a noise of protest.

Cole smiles, squeezes her hands and presses his forehead to hers. "Silly. You would never hurt me."

He releases her and then turns to walk toward Morrigan.

"Cole...?" Evie asks, cautious.

Cole looks back at her. "Trust me," he says gently. When he reaches Morrigan, he stands in front of her, chin raised bravely but fingers twisting into the edges of his leather gloves nervously. "Look at me," he says, "with your magic. What do you see?"

Morrigan tilts her head, then turns to face him fully. She closes her eyes and her brows furrow. She takes a slow breath and Cole shifts from one leg to the other. After a lengthy pause, she lets out a sigh.

"You are a strange, wayward thing indeed." She looks up at him in scrutiny. "I have glimpsed creatures of virtue in the fade only briefly. I know of their existence, but I have never known one. 'Tis uncommon that they venture into this world at all, let alone find a way to stay so concretely. You are _quite_ rare."

"I am Compassion and I follow her freely."

"Indeed?" Morrigan asks.

"He is your weak point," Cole continues, "and I am hers. She lied to guard me, a bluff. She knows no dark magic, seeks no forbidden powers. She would protect Kieran with her life, because he is kind and innocent and that is all that matters. He would be in no danger from us. I promise."

Evie approaches and stands beside Cole, knotting her fingers in the fabric of his sleeve. "You were... protecting someone?" she asks Morrigan.

"... Yes," Morrigan admits.

"Will you help us stop Corypheus?" Cole asks.

She pauses and considers the two of them with a frown. Then she nods solemnly.

"I will."

-

As they head to the front gardens to depart, Evie turns back to take in the palace in all of its beauty. She'll be delighted if she never returns, but she will also remember it.

Ahead of them, she sees Vivienne getting into an extravagant silver carriage. She looks truly happy, in a way Evie's never seen her.

"Needed and necessary," Cole murmurs, "the meanings get mixed in her mind. She seeks safety but has never seen it." He sighs. "She is happy now, but she will hurt when she hears about Morrigan," he says with a frown.

"She helped me today," Evie says. Cole looks over at her. "I'm still... not fond of her. But she helped."

Cole nods and bumps their shoulders together, becoming far more comfortable in her space after the events of the day. He runs his gloved fingers down the inside of her forearm until he reaches her palm, then knots their fingers together, his head tilted down, watching the motion curiously.

Evie yawns, her strength draining from her. "I hope you don't mind if I lean on you for the trip back."

Cole smiles to himself. "I would _never_ mind that."

When their carriage pulls in front of them, she lingers, holding Cole back a moment before they climb in.

" _Thank you_ for today, Cole," she says. "It means... more than I can say."

"I know," he says softly. "I hear your words beneath. I helped. I'm _happy_." He pauses. "We should stay together. We're better than we are alone."

"Me, maybe. But you...?" she whispers.

"Evie--"

She frowns and shakes her head. "I got you hurt today. That will never be all right. I--"

He steps close, tilts his head down and brushes his forehead against hers. "Hush. I am fine. I am happy. Let's go home."

She swallows and nods, exhausted.

On the trip back, Cullen rides with them, complaining that the girls and their gossip were bothering him in the other carriage. Josephine vehemently denies any gossip, but Sera jumps to claim Cullen's spot before she can finish speaking and starts in on a tale she heard in the tavern about the Queen of Ferelden.

Cassandra stomps out of Josephine's carriage with a sigh of disgust. Saying nothing, she marches over and yanks Dorian out of the first carriage and takes his spot with a look that promises deadly reprisals if he says a word.

Dorian looks mildly affronted, but shrugs.

"You can always ride on _top_ , Dorian," Bull calls, wiggling his eyebrows. "Get it? That was an innuendo."

"Eugh," Dorian sighs, climbing into the other carriage beside Sera.

As they shut the carriage door, Leliana waves and calls to Cullen, "Don't worry. We won't talk about you-- _much_."

 

Cole and Evie keep their hands linked even after they board the carriage. They sit alone on one side, across from Cullen and Cassandra, who make polite small talk for a moment before settling into silence.

Cole traces patterns in Evie's palm absently as she falls asleep, her head on his shoulder, heart steady and safe.

Cullen wants to glare at Cole, but looks away, busies himself with watching out the window.

Cole can feels the daggers of thoughts directed his way, though. He fidgets, curls unconsciously closer to Evie. He is tired, too.

He rests his face against her hair and closes his eyes. He focuses more on her dream of shadows dancing, tries to drown out Cullen's anger and disgust.

Suddenly, it feels like drowning in a different way. Like falling, out then in. He gasps.

-

Evie's mind hasn't had enough of stale parties, it seems, because the Fade shows her an old gathering of her mother's. She steps through her old family home, the lights blue and dim. Voices chatter, crowds of vague partygoers whose faces are hidden by shadows, not masks. It's a different time, a different fashion-- the women hold delicate fans, wear gowns accented in lace.

Evie looks down at herself. She's wearing a gown as well, an old one she liked. Dark blue, with fur at the edges. It swirls around her, elegant, but also warm and practical. She's wearing her boots-- even in her memory, she means to leave.

She tries to move past the party, out through the kitchens, but the crowd presses in, trapping her. She huffs, but stays calm. Frustration makes dreams build in ways you don't want.

She hears a thump and a gasp behind her and turns.

"I... fell in. I'm sorry." Cole stands quickly, brushing off his red uniform, awkward and out of place. The phantom guests leave a circle around him, never looking and continuing their featureless chatter.

The noise from the party becomes muted as her attention is divided.

" _Cole_ ," she can't help but grin as she steps closer. She knows, deep in her bones, that it's really him and not just a shade. He's like a swirling constellation of intricacy compared to the other dancers. The rest are just shadows, constructs the Fade created for her. Cole is _bright_ and _real_. "I'm happy you're here, but... don't you hate dreaming?" she asks, worried.

"It's not _my_ dream," he says, looking around. "I-I'm not really in the Fade. I'm in you-- in your mind, like in Therinfal. I am here, but only half of me... It can't reach me to wring me out."

"Is... that all right? With you?" She is hesitant, but hopeful.

"Y-yes. I didn't _mean_ to fall in, but I'm... glad. I would like to explore, experience with you, not just watch from the outside. Can I... be here?" he asks shyly.

She laughs. " _Yes_! Yes, Cole. You make everything better." She can't hold back her excitement any longer-- she grabs his hand and tugs. There's so much they can do, so much they can see. They can have _adventures_ \-- "Come on," she calls, pulling him through the crowd. The phantoms move to press closer, but Evie won't have it. Her thoughts _push_ and they turn away, allowing her to pass.

She is with _Cole_ and she won't stay in this stuffy memory a moment longer.

She weaves through the kitchen and tests the door-- it rattles, locked, but she closes her eyes and it opens with a _click_.

" _Evie_..." Cole chides softly.

"Come on!" she urges, and he has to rush to follow.

They run down the hill, a perfect sheet of snow on the ground. It crunches under his shoes, but he doesn't feel the cold.

When they reach the stream, she turns back to him and grins. "Isn't it beautiful, Cole?"

Above them, the green light of the Fade sky sparkles like an aurora, reflecting off the snow. Icicles hang from trees and colors refract through them. There is a soft hush, the snow muting the sound. The ground feels blanketed, safe.

He steps on the rough ice of the stream, solid and heavy, water trickling beneath. When he hits a smooth patch, his feet slip and she laughs.

"Careful," she calls.

He watches her, then tries a sliding step like she does. He learns quickly, feels laughter bubbling up within him.

They walk up a slight hill to the edge of the pond, a wide flat circle of ice. He hesitates only a moment before sliding into the middle carefully, arms wobbling. When he looks around, tilting his head to look up at the frozen trees, his breath catches.

"I saw this place the first time we touched, when I found you in the snow."

"You saved me," she smiles, snow crunching under her boots as she steps onto the rocky shoreline, watching him.

"People think ice is cruel and uncaring, frigid and fatal," he says. "Winter and death-- a metaphor. But you see the stream in winter, frozen but _flowing_ underneath. Still and safe, crisp and _alive_."

He turns to her, steps back and bows low, sliding a bit without meaning to. He steadies and looks up with a soft, lopsided smile.

"The kitchen door is always unlocked now, Evie," he says kindly. "No more walls to keep you caged."

She watches, breath caught, as he slowly reaches out his hand.

"Would you like to dance?"

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Short break before the next chapter because:  
> a) I'm out of town this week with no computer  
> b) I need to actually beat the game. I've only gotten to Adamant, and though I've read spoiler wiki entries, I kind of need to actually see the places so I don't get details wrong.  
> c) I want to double check my outline, now that I've gotten this far, and make sure everything's on track. 
> 
> Thanks for sticking with me so far. Hope you're enjoying it. And now the Intermission! /bow
> 
>  
> 
> Oh! And I started a blog where I'll put doodles and maaaybe tiny sneak-peek scenes (but not a lot). It's at [allublog.tumblr.com](http://allublog.tumblr.com/). I queued a few things for when I'm gone-- just a few, it'll run out before I get back. But it's something at least?


	9. Chapter 9

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Special thanks to Alyx, coolest person in the world and also my beta reader.

 

 

They arrive back in Skyhold just after dawn, everyone stiff and groggy after a jostling night's sleep. Evie wakes with her head pillowed on Cole's chest, while Cole is slumped awkwardly in the corner between the seat and the window, his arms wound tightly around her like a child clutching a toy.

She hears the carriage door slam and notices that Cullen and Cassandra are missing.

Cole squeezes her as he yawns.

"Good morning," she says, tilting her head up to look back at him. He smiles back shyly.

Outside she can hear the early morning sounds of Skyhold-- voices murmuring, the clink of the blacksmith hammering, heavy breaths from the horses-- then Sera shouts something colorful about Dorian's underwear and the moment is broken. "Guess we'd better go, then," she laughs and reaches down, tugging his hand and leading him out of the carriage.

As she steps down onto cobblestones on wobbly legs, she stops to blink in the bright sun and Cole bumps into her back. "Sorry," he says gently, touching her hip before stepping back.

"Ugh. I _despise_ sleeping in carriages," Leliana complains ahead of them as she combs her fingers through her hair ineffectively.

Dorian makes a show of stretching. "Don't let it bother you, my dear. You can't look fabulous _all_ the time. Well, unless you're _me_ ," he grins.

She gives him a dirty look. "I am doing remarkably well considering _bright red_ clashes with _some people's_ natural colorings."

"Maker, yes!" Dorian laughs. "Did you see Cole? I spent the whole evening afraid someone would accuse me of reanimating corpses and dressing them in uniforms to inflate our numbers."

" _Dorian_ \--" Evie starts as Sera snickers.

Dorian turns to see her and his gaze is caught just past her shoulder. He raises his eyebrows. "I would hold off any argument that he's _not_ the living dead until you've _looked at him_."

Evie turns to see Cole yawning, trying to crack his jaw, his hair sticking up sideways. The circles under his eyes look even darker, and what she can see of his eyes are bleary and clouded in the early morning sun.

He freezes when he notices them staring and hunches in on himself. "Sorry?" he asks, unsure, and tugs at his sleeves.

Evie smiles softly. "Sleeping might take some getting used to. If you stay in a strange position, you can be stiff in the morning."

Cole gives a soft groan of agreement, rotating his right shoulder carefully.

Evie reaches out to him--

"Oh dear!" Josephine calls. "Representatives from Nevarra will be arriving in less than an hour. If you wish to bathe and change clothes, please do so quickly!"

Evie pulls back and turns. "Do _I_ have to...?"

"Yes!" Josephine says bluntly. "You are the _Inquisitor_. And her advisors should be present as well." Leliana and Cullen look less than thrilled, but Josephine shakes her head. "Yesterday was quite noteworthy for the Inquisition, but we must build on that quickly or else the momentum will be lost. The image we present now _must_ be--"

Leliana holds up her hands. "Yes, Josie, fine. We'll go," she says miserably. Cullen grunts and heads off in the opposite direction.

Cassandra sighs, frustrated. "Maker, _no_ \-- I _cannot take_ any more politics. I will be in my quarters. If you need me..." she pauses, then shakes her head exhausted. "If you need me, _reconsider_."

"Well said," nods Dorian. "You all have fun with that. Meanwhile, I will be enjoying a hot bath."

"Want company?" Bull calls as he hops off a carriage.

"I'm not sure you'd fit in the tub." Dorian rolls his eyes. "And you shouldn't joke. I might still be tipsy enough to agree," he laughs.

Bull walks up to him, stepping into his space with a forceful silence, and leans down to look him straight in the eye. " _Try_ me," he grins.

Dorian stares back at him, dumbstruck, and gulps.

"Andraste's tits, just _do it_ already!" Sera groans, waving her arm exaggeratedly. "Dancing 'round like the world ain't ending. Piss and bollocks, that is-- just wasting fun."

"I-- _what_?" Dorian frowns, turning his head like he wants to glare at her but his eyes don't break from Bull's gaze.

Bull laughs, leans forward and whispers something in his ear.

"R-right. Erm." Dorian clears his throat. "I'll just be going then, shall I?" He goes to leave, then turns to look back. Bull winks.

Sera snickers and bumps Evie's shoulder. "Have fun arse-kissing, Vee. Grand fun, that."

Evie turns to Cole. "I'll see you later?"

"Y-yes. I hope so," he says, gives her a soft look, and then vanishes.

-

Evie changes and spends the morning miserably smiling at ambassadors and making small talk about the imports and exports of surrounding capitals. Whenever she finds herself staring out the nearest window for more than a moment, Josephine inevitably redirects the conversation to require Evie's input. Counting down each moment, it's a relief when the circuitous tour of Skyhold's luxurious accommodations ends back in the Keep's entrance hall.

What's more, Evie soon notices something is amiss. The guards by the doorway are buzzing with whispers, and the noise from the courtyard outside has a charged energy to it.

Leliana enters the hall and bows deferentially. "Inquisitor. Pardon the interruption. A group of mages has arrived pledging support to the Inquisition. It appears they are all from _Ostwick_."

"What...?" Evie's heart thumps. She bows jerkily to the Nevarrans and rushes outside, looking down into the courtyard for familiar faces.

_Mages from her Tower_.

There are about thirty of them, milling around by the healer tents, talking with the guards. Some are former classmates, some are Enchanters. So many faces she never thought to see again. She stares in shock.

"What are you waiting for, Inquisitor?" Josephine chides, startling her out of her reverie. "You must go down and welcome them. Normally I would, but in this case it appears the gesture must come from you. They are old friends, are they not?"

"Old acquaintances," Evie says numbly.

"The one leading them is the Senior Archivist, though he denies having any power. Leliana's report states that all mages present came here unanimously. They make no demands, and only wish to help. We may count ourselves very fortunate for their alliance."

"I..." Evie shakes her head, at a loss. "Are they... are they well? Is anyone injured? Have they been seen to?"

"Yes, dear." Josephine smiles. " _Go_. Talk to them."

Evie walks down the steps on stiff legs and finds her hands are shaking. She has no idea what to say-- it's all so surreal. These are her classmates, her teachers... standing here in-- in her _castle_.

As she walks under the archway to the final set of stairs, she pauses, just out of sight, and freezes up. Why did she think this part of her past was behind her? She feels like she's a child again, first stepping foot in the Tower. She wants to keep her head down, eyes away, raise her hand in class to speak-- how would they believe, even for a second, that she's the _leader_ of the Inquisition?

"Evie," Cole whispers, and she starts and turns. He is beside her in the shadows.

He steps close and touches her arm. She releases a breath, tension seeping out of her, and leans toward him.

"You're afraid," he murmurs. "Better, now that I'm here, but it still broils beneath. Would you like me to stay beside you?"

" _Yes_ ," she says, without hesitation.

"Do you want them not to see me?"

"I...N-no. I don't want you to hide. Can I introduce you? Would you... would you like to meet them?" she asks, unsure.

He gives her a patient smile. "If you like."

She nods at him, takes a breath to steel herself, then heads down the steps.

There's a commotion as some of the Enchanters see her. One lets out a whoop and a wave. There is a scattering of applause and she blushes and nods awkwardly, her heart shaking in her chest. This feels so _strange_.

Archivist Grayson steps forward. He's an old man in red robes, kind and methodical. He ran the library. Beside him stands Jacob, the closest person she had to a friend when she was young.

"Good to see you alive, my girl," the Archivist says, reaching out to shake her right hand with both of his. His hands are gnarled, covered with age spots, but large and steady. He's just like she remembers him.

"Thank you all for coming," she says loudly. "Your support is greatly appreciated." She falters, wanting to add more, but unsure of what to say next. After a painful moment, she adds, "It's... good to see you all again. I'm glad you're well."

There's another scattering of applause throughout the group. Evie looks down, embarrassed.

"We'll... need to decide on accommodations for you all," she says to the Archivist. "And... I know there are Templars here, but they should only be the good kind. If anyone-- _anyone_ gives you any trouble, please let me know."

"And who is your friend?"

She blushes again, turning. Josephine would be appalled at her manners. "This is Cole. He..."

"I fight beside her," Cole says, stepping closer. "I am the one she trusts the most."

"...Yes," she agrees, though there's so much more she could say.

She leads the Archivist around Skyhold, Jacob tagging along, Cole as her shadow. She gives the tour like a student giving a report in class, nervous and stammering, trying to remember the facts. Whenever the feeling of being out of her depth threatens to overwhelm her, Cole touches her arm, grounds her. Gradually, she finds herself relaxing. _This is her home. She's sharing it with people she used to know and trust_.

"It is nothing short of remarkable what you have achieved here, Evelyn."

Cole turns and speaks for the first time. "She wants to be called Evie."

"She does?" Jacob asks. "She never said anything..."

Evie opens her mouth awkwardly. "Well, I..."

"It's all right. Now I am here to help," Cole says.

The Archivist turns to him and looks him over closely. "You seem familiar. Were you ever at Ostwick?"

"No. I was at the Spire," Cole replies. The Archivist's eyebrows raise. 

"You're a mage?" Jacob asks.

"No." Cole looks off into the distance, distracted. He frowns. "Evie, I need to go help the cook," he says softly.

She can tell it's urgent. "What's wrong?"

"There is no danger to others," he says, turning to her, but he still looks serious.

She squeezes his hand and nods. "Go."

He turns awkwardly to the others and ducks his head. "It was nice to meet you, Evie's friend, old man," he says, nodding to them in turn before stepping around the corner, just out of their sight, and disappearing.

"Strange boy," the Archivist murmurs, but he's watching Evie with sharp eyes.

"Hm," Evie agrees.

 

Later on, as they walk down a stone hallway, Jacob clatters into a suit of armor in surprise.

"Are you all right...?"

"I... I can't remember!" he exclaims.

"Remember what?" Evie frowns, confused.

"What he looked like-- I can't remember what he looked like! I... that's magic, isn't it?" he turns to the Archivist, frightened.

"You didn't talk to him for very long..." Evie says, then berates herself for showing that she immediately knew who he meant.

Jacob shakes his head. "No, there's something wrong...!"

"Hush, Jacob," the Archivist chides. "There's nothing to worry about. What possible reason would someone have for such an ineffective spell?"

Evie turns to him, worry forming in her gut. There's something too calm about his tone.

"Oh, you're right," Jacob stammers, embarrassed. "I guess it doesn't make much sense when you think about it. Meeting new people is sort of overwhelming. I-I must not have been paying enough attention." He turns to her. "I'm so sorry, Evely--er, Evie. I didn't mean to be rude."

"It's all right," she says. "If you forgot his face, you can at least recognize him by his hat."

"He was wearing a hat?"

"Ah-- yes." She notices the Archivist watching her and shifts uncomfortably.

They continue down the corridors in silence for a while, until the Archivist speaks suddenly. "You had the fastest harrowing in our records. Did you know that?"

Evie pauses and turns. "...So I've heard?"

He smiles. "Some believe, incorrectly, that facing demons requires strength. There are even Templars that hold to this fundamental misunderstanding. No, a demon is not dangerous because it will overpower you. It is dangerous because it will _trick_ you."

"Possession requires permission," Jacob recites dutifully.

"Indeed," he nods before turning back to Evie. "You always had an incredible gift of insight, my dear."

"...Thank you, sir?" she answers, uncertain.

"It is a subtle talent, but one I have seen recorded at various times throughout history. The ancient elves, Tevinter magisters... all across Thedas, all different cultures."

"I wasn't aware it was something people would write about."

"Oh, it has its uses, I think," he says with a smile. "I'd venture you could recognize a demon in the Fade from the moment you laid eyes on it."

Jacob turns to her in awe. "Is that true, Evie?"

She shifts nervously. "I... suppose," she says, but her stomach twists. _Long before I see them_ , she thinks. _Long before they see me_. Was that really so rare?

The Archivist taps his chin. "Does it extend to this realm, I wonder? Can you spot demons in the waking world?"

"No," she says quickly, feeling somewhat relieved and slightly more normal.

"Even if one were to stand beside you, day by day?" he prompts, and the look in his eyes makes her swallow nervously. _He knows about Cole!_ she thinks, and tries to fight down her panic.

Jacob looks between the two of them. "Did I miss something? I'm confused."

The Archivist laughs, his eyes bright. "Always keeping your cards close," he says with a nod, " _exactly_ as I remember you." He steps in front of her and claps his hand on her shoulder. She does her best not to squirm. "I learned the hard way that there's always more you're not saying, my girl. I mean to _listen_ this time."

-

When Evie parts ways with the others and finally steps out into the fresh air, the first thing she sees is Cole standing on a parapet high above her, trying to poke a beehive with a stick. "What...?" she murmurs, stepping forward.

He stretches to reach from the stone ledge, then tries to take a step up the steep roof to get closer, reaching one hand out to steady himself on a wall. The bees circle him curiously.

"I'm _afraid_ , Sera," he calls down, his voice wavering.

"It's _fine_ ," Sera drones, annoyed. She stands on the ground with her arms crossed.

"But what if they sting me?"

Sera waves her hand. "Look, can't you just make the bees forget you or something?"

"B-but I have to forget them, too! It's hard. They're buzzing very loudly." He steps backward and wavers for a moment.

"Oh, Maker. Cole!" Evie gasps.

"Oh, hello," he calls politely, steadying himself.

She casts a barrier around him, creating a wind that stirs the bees for a second, but they settle.

"Thank you," Cole says. "I feel much safer now."

"Be _careful_ ," Evie pleads. "You could still fall."

"Yes," he agrees, leaning up and reaching for the hive once more.

"And you--!" Evie turns to Sera.

Sera shrugs. "Don't look at me, he wanted to help. Used those creepy powers of his to get to 'em."

He wedges the stick in the middle and pries the beehive off the stone with a _shucking_ sound, holds it as far away from himself as possible. As he carefully turns and walks back along the stone ledge, Evie mutters to Sera, "I think I liked it better when you were scared of him."

Sera snorts.

Evie squints up at the ledge again as Cole carefully walks back to the ramparts balancing the bees. "He's going to break his _neck_..."

She thinks she says it softly, but Cole hears her. "If I fell, I would twist the Fade, tear through before I touched down," he reassures her gently. Then he frowns. "...The bees wouldn't though. They might fall on you."

Sera and Evie both take a simultaneous step back.

When Cole reaches the ground, Evie hugs him (after he hands Sera the bees), her arms over his shoulders and her face buried against his neck. He accepts it with patient amusement. "I wouldn't have been hurt," he promises. "Except by the bees," he adds.

"Is the cook all right?" she remembers, pulling back. Her hands run down his arms and stop on his elbows.

"Better," he nods, catching her arms and returning the embrace gently. "An apprentice set a wicker basket too close to the oven. The flames spread and she saw Haven. It was hard for her, but she's calm now."

"You look after everyone," she sighs.

"Yes," he says. He leans forward and touches his forehead to hers. "And you look after me."

-

She gets pulled aside for a war table meeting that evening. When she finally steps back into the main hall, she can tell through the windows that it's night. She wonders where Cole is-- undoubtedly helping from the shadows. She smiles. She doesn't want to interrupt him. She's taken so much of his time lately. He's so remarkable, so amazing. It's a waste for him to spend all his time helping her.

Tired and quiet, she slinks back through the Keep, avoiding eye contact with anyone who would want to talk to her. When she reaches her stairwell, she lets out a breath, climbing the cold stone stairs in silence. She shifts things around in her room, stands on her balcony and looks out into the night blankly for a bit, then settles into bed.

She dreams a boring dream of a Tower classroom until Cole appears in the desk behind her, winding his fingers through the long hair she used to have. He whispers to her, asks her questions, and they laugh when the teacher almost catches them.

When she wakes, she sees him sitting on the floor by her bed, his head slumped against her mattress.

"Oh, Cole, that can't be comfortable," she murmurs as he turns to look up at her sleepily.

She drags him up into her bed, sets his hat to the side, and nestles against him for another hour of rest. He curls his arm around her with a soft murmur and follows her back to the Fade.

When she wakes again, she flags down a messenger and orders two pairs of sleep clothes in Cole's size. She blushes but keeps her face blank as the messenger cranes her neck, trying to see who else might be in the room. Evie stays calm and reminds herself not to worry-- even if the messenger saw Cole, she would never remember.

-

They head down into the Entrance Hall shortly after, Cole by her side letting himself be forgotten, when she hears a commotion.

Bull pounds his chest and brags, "Three times!"

Dorian lets out a bone-deep groan of humiliation. "I'm never drinking again," he promises.

"Hey, handsome, you were completely sober last night and you know it."

"Indeed. But I feel I must enact some form of self-flagellation for my past-self's frankly _horrifying_ decision-making skills."

"Bull and Dorian, huh?" Evie mutters to herself with a smile.

Cole hums and pauses, tilting his head as he watches them walk away bickering.

"What is it?"

"There's... something. They could be real, I think. Maybe." He shakes his head. "Nevermind."

"No, what is it?"

He looks away, scratching his ear. "I don't understand these things. I shouldn't. Swirling possibilities, so many ways it can sour, and then only sadness."

"But you think they could be happy together?" she presses.

Cole huffs, eyes darting over to meet hers stubbornly, but he sighs and relents. "The Iron Bull is _fond_ , fascinated. And Dorian feels light-- it _can_ be easy, clear and free, not hidden away in the dark. But his heart is wary, full of warnings. _It doesn't mean anything. Don't be a fool. Bit of fun and nothing more_."

Evie looks back at their retreating forms. "Huh," she says again.

-

Evie spends her morning with Cassandra and Cullen, surveying spaces in Skyhold with the carpenters, trying to find the best place to construct a dormitory for the mages. They can't leave them camped in the courtyard in tents.

They decide on a space beneath the kitchens. It is dusty, but unused, and there is a strange library branching off to the side-- some of the books seem questionable, but she trusts that the Archivist can sort through them.

Cullen directs the carpenters in the corner to start constructing beds, and has a few men carry spare tables down to form a dining area.

The Archivist joins them, along with a few mages, who help clear out rubble. One summons a few wisps for light and Evie stills, thinking back to the carriage ride with Dorian.

_He called him a corpse the day before and she didn't defend him_. Guilt gnaws at her. Evie frowns.

The mage notices her stare and pauses. "Something wrong, dearie?"

"Be kind to them," she says awkwardly, nodding to the wisps, then turns away embarrassed.

-

When they've finished asking for her input, she stops by the kitchen and takes a meal with her, then trudges up the stairs to her room for some solitude and silence.

Soon after she closes her door, Cole appears on the balcony, lingering shyly.

"Come in," she smiles, her heart lighter.

"Could we sit together?" he asks "Like before on the ramparts-- you eat while I listen?"

She grins. "Of course! In fact--"

She has an idea-- she walks over to the large couch in her quarters. It's lonely position near the stairwell had always seemed strange to her.

She tugs it sideways, then gets behind it and pushes, her feet sliding on the floor.

Cole appears next to her and leans on it as well. "What are we doing?" he asks.

She laughs. "Help me push this to the balcony," she says, and he does, with far more ease than she expected.

When they get it settled, she squeezes past through the doorway and sits on the soft cushion, holding her lunch in her lap. "We can listen from here, if you like," she says.

He hops over and sits beside her gracefully, looking out across the rooftops. The wind shifts through the air, stirring his hair gently.

"Yes. It's nice up here. Quiet, with so many souls in view."

They sit comfortably for a time before Cole touches her arm. "Evie," he says, turning his head east. "The two from the kitchens..."

Evie frowns, trying to remember. "Maylene and Evette...?"

"I-I don't remember their names. The kind, round one and the one with sharp edges. The ones you and Sera helped me help," he says.

"What about them?"

"They're _talking_ , telling truths. Found friendship makes them both _happy_. We helped!" he grins.

She laughs. "We did? I'm glad."

Cole kicks his feet and listens some more, content.

Evie finishes her meal and stares ahead, lost in thought. She frowns as she thinks back to what was bothering her earlier. "Cole... what do you think of Dorian?" she asks.

"I thought you liked him." He turns to her, confused.

"I might like him too much-- so much I don't see if he's unkind."

"There's... a lot of pain in him. He expects the worst. But he is strong," he says with a nod. "Tries to be bright, clever. He wants to help."

Evie turns. "What about how he treats you?"

"What about it?" Cole raises his shoulders, defensive. "It's true, I am not handsome. Or colorful."

Evie frowns, her jaw tightens. "You're doing that thing again," she says, "where you don't count."

"And that makes you angry?"

"At him, not you."

Cole reaches and grabs her hand, pulls it toward him. "Evie, you want everyone to like me, but it doesn't _work_ like that. Not everyone will like me. Not everyone will see me as you do." He strokes her hand and smiles at her. " _You_ like me. That matters most."

She frowns and looks away.

"...It's not something you can _fix_ , Evie," he says gently.

She shakes her head and reaches a decision. "It's not something I can ignore, either."

She squeezes his hand and kisses his cheek, then storms off to the library.

-

"Dorian, you need to be kinder to him," she says without preamble.

He sits at a table, scanning over a letter, twirling a quill in his hand. "Who?" he asks disinterestedly.

"You _know_ who." She steps closer and crosses her arms.

He sighs and looks up. "I'm afraid I'm at a total loss, my dear."

She rolls her eyes. "Cole!"

"What? _Really_? I'm perfectly polite."

"You're really not. Cole is _Compassion_. He genuinely cares about you and wants you to be happy. He would help you with anything you asked. He fights alongside you!"

"Yes, and...?"

"And you still see him as a novelty! You take him for granted. You _make fun of him_."

"He's a spirit," Dorian says, as if explaining to a child. "He hardly cares what we think of his fashion."

"He thinks he isn't handsome because of you!" she shouts, louder than she meant. The soft murmur of noise in the library becomes silent. She blushes, turns away.

"H-handsome?" Dorian stammers, laughing. Evie looks back, ready to snarl. He covers his mouth and tries to contain it, but he breaks down into snickers.

She slaps her hands on his desk. "He's not a corpse!" she says viciously. "Or a _scarecrow_."

"Calm down, my dear," he says, raising his hands. "I can see this has upset you."

She glares at him. " _Upset_ me? Dorian-- listen carefully because I will say this once-- You can sit around making catty comments with Vivienne all you like, about whoever you like, but _Cole is off-limits_. Do not _ever_ make him feel like he is less than what he is!"

"Goodness, fine," Dorian says, waving her off. "No need to get yourself in a tizzy over it."

She glares at him.

"I'm _sorry_ ," he says, more sincerely. "I will do my best to be more considerate to him. I promise. All right...?"

She nods jerkily, stands awkwardly for a moment, then leaves, hands shaking. She isn't used to direct confrontation, isn't suited to intimidation. Still, he might think her foolish, but he bloody well better know she's serious.

She feels she's burned a bridge, but she would do it again without hesitation.

 

Cole is waiting patiently when she steps into the quiet stairwell to her room. She jumps, but probably shouldn't be surprised. "Nosy," she mutters.

"It was about _me_...!" he says as he falls into step beside her.

"Still nosy," she says, but there's no bite in her tone.

"You didn't have to do that," he says softly.

"Yes I did."

"He is your friend."

"I _thought_ he was my friend. I wanted him to be my friend. But he was never kind to you, was he?"

Cole is silent

Evie sighs. "I'm an idiot."

-

That afternoon they head their separate ways again. Evie feels lighter, though pained. Like Dorian's callous words had been a splinter, stuck in her, tearing deeper, and now it's torn free. She had wanted to look up to him, but she can't forgive his carelessness, his cruelty. She is resolute.

He sends a book to her shortly after, by way of messenger. It's about rift magic and the veil. Inside there's a folded a note, cordially written, that apologizes for upsetting her. There's a passage he asks her to read aloud to Cole, as well. She feels much of her coldness melt, but her disappointment lingers. Still, she feels things will get better.

As she makes her way across the courtyard to check on the dormitory construction, she sees a boy shooed away from a shopkeep. "Lilies are twelve silver. Sorry, son," he says. The boy steps away, dejected, counting coppers in his palm. Evie frowns, curious.

She approaches the counter and sets a sovereign on the wood. "Here," she says softly, "but don't say who it's from."

The grizzled store owner rolls his eyes but smiles and calls after the boy, and Evie hurries off before she's seen.

-

"You seem very loyal to the Inquisitor," Josephine says diplomatically as she spreads out papers for Cole to copy.

Cole looks down, pricking his finger against the tip of his quill curiously. "I trust her," he says.

"Is it because you fought together against the Envy demon?"

"No. That isn't it."

Cole pauses, furrows his brow trying to figure out how to explain.

"When you went away to finishing school, your mother told you to _be yourself_ ," he says. "Sad smiles, hands shaking on the front steps, suitcase behind you."

He looks up at her and she nods for him to continue. He tightens his hands together into fists on the table nervously.

"But...imagine trying to be yourself knowing that if you fail, you will become a _monster_ and hurt everyone that you love."

"I... I had never considered it like that," Josephine says, wide-eyed.

"I...it's hard. I worry a lot."

Josephine wavers between fear and concern before resolutely sitting down across from him and placing her hands over his comfortingly. "I had no idea, Cole."

"She _knows_ me, though," Cole continues, looking up at her plaintively. "Knows _Compassion_ and how I should be. I trust her to keep me right when I can't see the road. She won't let me lose my way."

He huffs and tugs a hand loose to scrub it across his cheek.

"You're all surprised she trusts me to not make her a monster, but you don't understand that _I trust her, too_ ," he says fiercely. "She would _never_ hurt me. And I would never hurt her."

Josephine lets out a soft sigh, her eyes misting as she squeezes his hand gently. "...I am glad that you found each other."

"Yes. I am glad, too."

-

Before returning to Evie's side that night, Cole wanders the Keep one last time, listening for sorrow. He hears a strange ruckus from beneath the ground, burbling emotions echoing up stone stairwells. He follows, curious.

Cullen and Blackwall help haul kegs of ale down from the kitchens to where the new mages are lined up on benches, eating jovially. Cole steps closer, into the warmth and laughter that rings through what was just yesterday a dead and forgotten room.

Cullen sets down a keg and turns to a few of the mages nervously. "If you... if you don't mind me asking, what was the Inquisitor like when she lived in the Tower?"

The mages look between each other before a young, dark-haired one chimes in, "We thought she was a bit of a brat." The men beside him break into laughter.

"It's true!" an older woman laughs. "Wealthiest mage to come through in, oh, a decade at least. Got her own rooms right from the start - unheard of for an apprentice!"

"Full grown mages were jealous of her, this small child--"

"--bossed Templars around--"

"Yes! I'd forgotten-- when she still had her hair in braids, handing out orders like she expected them to be followed-- it was absurd!" one says.

"They didn't know what to do with her," laughs another.

The dark-haired one says to Cullen seriously, "It took us years to realize she was being a brat to draw heat off bullied mages."

The crowd sobers, nodding to themselves.

"What a thing for a child to _do_..."

"Yes, it's not like we should have expected it--"

"It was Jacob who first started speaking up for her."

"Had a bit of a crush, didn't you, boy?" a red-haired mage elbows him.

Jacob looks down, blushing. "N-no..."

"She smuggled food to me when I was in lockup, too," a tough-looking man mutters.

"Lockup?" Cullen asks, frowning.

"They liked to remind you of your place. A couple days in the cells here and there. A week, tops," a woman says. "Didn't always remember to feed you. You learned to conjure water early."

Cullen shakes his head. "Tower dungeons were for _criminals_ , not routine discipline," he says with a frown. "Those Templars lost sight of their duty. I'm sorry you had to endure that."

"Other towers had it worse," one shrugs.

"Yeah," a young woman nods. "Going hungry is still better than some of the stories I've heard."

A large man across the table laughs. "--And this pale little girl, slipping bread through the bars like a ghost."

"Aye. A few of us hot-headed enchanters were quite indebted to her, small wisp of a thing."

Many of them nod. And older woman adds, "It takes a strong will, to do what she did. I worry for her. She always seemed distant. Especially after..."

"What... happened to her?" Cullen asks warily.

"She antagonized them quite a lot for quite a while," the Archivist says. "When it boiled over it... wasn't good."

There is a heavy silence, and Cole answers to fill it. "Yes. They hurt her. Broke her ribs. Scarred her face."

Cullen starts, turning to him with a frown.

"She told you?" Jacob asks, surprised.

"No. But she doesn't mind as much that I know, now."

"It's... good she has a friend," Jacob says, looking down.

"Her blood still burns you with guilt," Cole murmurs to the crowd. " _Maker, she was still so young_. Teasing taunts turned to terror. You didn't think it could happen until it did."

There's a silence as they look at him oddly, glance at each other, unsure of what to make of him. Then one by one they stare blankly ahead, forgetting. Jacob frowns in confusion.

A loud red-haired man slaps Cullen on the shoulder, breaking the silence. "There ain't many of us made it here, Commander, but we'd like to help. Other towers may be busy taking sides in the mage war, but it'll all be for naught if the sky keeps spitting down demons."

"Aye," a blonde man agrees with a heavy nod, "and we'd be cowards if we let the little one fight it alone."

-

When Cole teleports back up to Evie's room, she's sitting on the couch, staring straight ahead in thought, her knees pulled to her chest.

"Hello," he says.

"Hello," she echoes with a small smile.

He disappears for a moment before returning, dropping her notebook in her lap with some charcoal. She looks up at him with curiosity as he sits down.

"You helped the blacksmith's son before I could," he says.

"Who?"

"You bought him flowers."

"Oh-- I'm sorry. I didn't mean to interfere."

"Don't be!" he grins. "I like that you help, too. We are a team." He nudges her shoulder and she laughs. Gently she leans against him.

"I don't help like you do, though," she says softly.

"I'm different, but not better," he says, serious.

Evie scoffs.

"I'm _not_ ," he insists. "You don't see my mistakes. I've made many." He looks away. "I... want you to see the best of me, but you shouldn't think me more than I am. I can be... flustered, floundering... I use _forgetting_ to hide my flaws."

Evie shakes her head, her hair brushing against his shoulder. "No... even if you make mistakes, you help in ways _no one else can_. You see things in people no one else can see, wounds no one else can heal. Your help is absolutely vital."

Cole shifts and looks down at his hands, is silent a moment. “You see people well, even if you can’t hear their thoughts,” he says softly.

“Sometimes.”

“Sometimes,” Cole agrees, pulling at his glove.

They soon relax into a comfortable silence, curled on the couch together.

He sits slouched back against the cushion, feet politely on the floor and arms at his sides. Evie is far less inclined to sit properly, curling her legs under her as she sits diagonally, her back pressed partly against the cushion and partly against Cole's shoulder.

She opens her notebook and draws quietly in the firelight. Cole's hair tickles her as he turns to look down at her occasionally, his hat creating a shadow on her page.

He fidgets as he listens, tapping his fingers on his legs or drawing his nails across the rough leather, making a _scritch_ sound. He tilts his head sometimes-- she doesn't turn to look, but she can see by how his shadow shifts.

She finds it endearing how he takes great care to not move the shoulder she leans against.

She sketches masks from the Winter Palace, elaborate gowns made vague by hazy memories, details lost to distraction. She smiles as she draws Cole in fancy suit, feels him turn and let out a huff, but he says nothing.

Suddenly Cole tenses and looks up, teleports away-- she falls backward with a yelp.

She looks out and spots him on a distant roof just as he slits a man's throat. There's a crash as the body falls two stories into crumpled daisies. A guard yells an alarm.

There's a clatter as a shape skids off the shingles a moment later, clunks against the ground like wood. A bow. An archer. _An assassin_. Her heart speeds up.

Cole appears beside her again, before the guards can spot him. There's blood on his shirt, but he moves calmly, with no pain or injuries. He leans over her, resting one knee on the couch beside her, and touches her cheek.

"You're safe," he says breathless. "I can _protect_ you. I can shield you from things others can't."

Her heart thumps at his words, at the adrenaline. She leans forward, caught in the feeling of him so close. The smell of him, the soft warmth, the solid weight of his presence. " _Cole_..." she says in awe. Her breath shakes and she leans up, tangles her fingers in his shirt. She wants to _kiss_ him--

She looks down at the wet blood on her palm, startled, and pulls back. Controls herself.

"Come on," she says, her voice faint and scratchy. "Let's get you some other clothes."

He looks down and frowns, then lets out a soft chuckle.

She falters at the sound, confused. "What is it...?"

He looks up and his eyes dart to hers from under his shaggy bangs, before looking back down. His face splits into a shy smile. "Evie, do you see...?" he laughs. "I _am_ a scarecrow. I scare the Crows away."

 

 


	10. Chapter 10

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter is so much cooler that it could have been thanks to Alyx's wonderful beta reading and advice. <3

 

 

Evie drags Cole in off the balcony before the guards spot them. She pushes him into her side-room to change, then calls for a servant to send his bloody leathers to be washed.

While she waits, she paces, breathing shallowly and keeping to the dark shadows of her room, hidden from the moonlight.

She turns when Cole emerges. He's tracing his fingers over the soft threads of his sleepwear, fascinated. She grabs his hand and drags him under the bedcovers in a rush. She pulls the blankets up over their heads and stays breathing beside him.

There's no light to see, but through something in the timing of his breath or the tilt of his head, she can feel him watching her curiously. She stays still, leaning protectively over him for a long moment before her mind catches up with her and she lays down, gingerly resting her head on his chest.

Cole knots his fingers into her hair, running them through the strands idly, calming her. She closes her eyes, unused to the sensation. His touch feels different than any she's felt before. Her mother's-- sharp nails, proprietary, combing through knots. Enchanter Marianne's, who healed her at the Tower-- firm points of pressure, evenly spaced, matching and methodical but comforting. Her father-- rough and ruffling, messy and brief, over too soon.

Cole's fingers are gentle and clumsy. They tangle and tug, twist through the strands like he's fascinated with the texture. He's tactile, always moving. Always _there_. Even the tugs don't bother her. She likes the constant motion. The reminder.

She lets out a long, slow breath. Then she leans up to kiss the bottom of his chin. "Thank you for saving me," she whispers, sinking down against him.

"Always," comes his answer from the dark.

-

A nervous messenger wakes her before dawn, rapping against the wood door, dragging her away from Cole curled around her. He holds a note from Cullen demanding she get to the war room immediately. Scrawled at the bottom, in Leliana's edgy handwriting, is the message, _bring Cole_.

They change quickly, Cole's normal tunic soft and light after being washed. He smiles, twisting his arms to feel the stretch of the fabric, thanking her.

They trek down to the war room in the dark. The Keep is still filled with a sleepy hush, servants only just starting to bustle about.

"There was an assassin in Skyhold last night," Leliana says immediately as they enter. "My agents had difficulty determining who killed him. Judging by your complete lack of surprise, I just won three sovereigns."

Evie links her hand with Cole's. "It's true. Cole stopped him." She steps up to the war table and Cole leans into her side, keeping his head down shyly.

"Did you get any impressions of the assassin, Cole?" Cassandra asks.

"He was thinking about the wind, and where the arrow would go," Cole murmurs, tilting his head but still staring at the floor. "Letting go and then... letting go."

"Remarkable," Cullen says dryly.

"Is that all?" Leliana prompts.

"He didn't _call_ to me," Cole replies with an awkward shrug.

"It was truly fortunate you were nearby, Cole," Josephine says, wringing her hands.

"Fortunate," Cullen scoffs. "We can't be relying on mere luck to protect the Inquisitor. We have to be prepared for more attempts, the next might not be so clumsy and ill-conceived."

Evie frowns and wants to say something, but Josephine redirects her.

"Your actions, and attentions, at Halamshiral have legitimized you to many as a real political power. In doing so, you have attracted some... unwanted attention."

"More unwanted than Corypheus?" Evie asks.

Cassandra snorts. "Certainly not. But we must be aware of the additional threat and take precautions."

Cullen spreads out a Skyhold map and starts gesturing to different points. "We need to post two guards outside her room. The gatesman should be vetting anyone who walks inside the Keep. Station guards to all watchtowers at all hours, not just the ones above the main entrance. We can't have them scaling the walls from the back..."

While Cullen speaks, Leliana slips close to Evie and whispers, "He must have been quite close, to be able to intercept the archer. Is this perhaps connected to the rumors that you ordered men's garments sent to your quarters?" she asks, eyebrow raised.

"I have no idea what you're implying," Evie says. She keeps her face as blank as possible, but Leliana's eyes miss nothing.

"So he's _not_ sleeping with you?" she teases.

Evie blushes and clenches her jaw shut.

Cole frowns and whispers to Leliana, soft and confused, "I do sleep with her. I watch out, watch over while she's in the Fade."

Leliana's eyebrows raise and she gives Evie a shrewd smile. "Ah, well, perhaps someday..."

Evie turns and openly glares. Cassandra clears her throat.

"...also, we should board up her balcony," Cullen continues, oblivious. "It's too visible--"

Evie's eyes shoot up. "What? _No_!"

Cullen looks up and frowns at her. "It was the obvious point of weakness. My scouts tell me you sit out there too often."

"You-- your scouts _watch me_?"

"Ever since you were named Inquisitor, I've had troops tasked with your protection," Cullen explains slowly. "The balcony isn't defensible. That's all there is to it--"

Evie shakes her head. "No--"

"Stop," Cole says, stepping forward. "She won't be locked away." He stands beside her, challengingly, but his left hand winds up her back and tangles in the bottom strands of her hair, tugging absently. Evie looks over at him. His jaw clenches nervously and there's a small tremor as he exhales.

Cullen grits his teeth and leans forward, placing his fists on the table. "She needs to be kept safe--" he growls.

"Then _I_ will protect her," Cole says softly, looking down into the middle distance, not meeting Cullen's eyes.

"Thank you, Cole," Evie whispers, and Cole turns to her, wide eyes worried and hopeful. She gives him a soft smile and leans into his shoulder.

"You won't be able to protect her from everything," Cullen protests.

"I will stay close, always," Cole promises. He looks around the room pleadingly. "I will _help_."

"That is hardly--"

"Stop it," Evie interrupts. "You're not boarding up anything. _I'm_ the Inquisitor, you're supposed to follow my orders. I won't hide-- that's _final_." She looks to each of her advisors, but none of them speak out against her. She turns back to Cullen. "Post whatever guards you like outside my quarters and around Skyhold. That's as far as you go."

Cullen runs a hand through his hair, frustrated, but he nods obligingly. As Leliana goes on to report on Crow counterintelligence, he steals worried glances at the Skyhold guard markers out of the corner of his eye.

When the meeting is dismissed, Cullen grabs Evie's arm gently to pull her aside to a quiet corner, out of earshot of the others. Evie looks up at him with a frown and he lets go hurriedly.

"Yes?" Evie asks.

"You're... too kind to him. It's admirable, but you must realize it was only luck that he stopped the assassin in time. You can't think his presence overrides the necessity for a personal guard--"

"'Admirable'?" she frowns. "Wait, why is it 'admirable' that I'm kind to him?"

He steps back, puts his hand behind his head nervously. "I didn't..."

"No, say what you meant."

Cullen sighs helplessly. "He's latched on to you. For a demon, I will admit he's been helpful... but I don't think--"

Evie glares. "Is that what you think of Cole?"

"I don't... I don't mean to offend you, Inquisitor," Cullen says with a wince.

Evie sighs at him and shakes her head. "That seems to be all you ever do," she says, and leaves.

-

Cole waits for her in the hallway, worried. "I made it worse by being there," he says, tugging at his gloves.

Evie huffs and links her elbow through his. "You saved me. If they want to hear about the assassin from you, then they _should_ invite you here to ask. I won't have you treated like you're less. You're beside me," she says firmly, nudging against him.

"...Yes," he echoes softly. "Always."

Cassandra exits the war room behind them and falls in step with them as they walk. "I don't mean to follow you," she says brusquely. "I must go meet with Bull. But... Cole, I did want to thank you. For protecting her."

Cole nods. "Yes, of course."

Cassandra nods then clenches her jaw. "I apologize for Cullen-- his past gives him a strong distrust of demons. If he was short with you, it was... not because of your actions."

"Yes... but no," Cole murmurs.

Cassandra frowns, but continues-- "What I mean to say is... I appreciate all that you are doing for the Inquisition. And while I still do not entirely trust you, I have seen no signs of ill intent. I believe you mean well," she nods firmly.

"Because we're friends now, right Cassandra?" Cole asks, tilting his head up toward her.

"It does not-- I..." she pauses, sees his hopeful face and sighs. "Very well, Cole. We are friends."

He smiles softly. "I'm glad!"

"This means you must stop going in my room! I am grateful you found my locket, but you have no business snooping through my belongings."

"They say things about you," Cole says innocently. "Things you don't like to say yourself. I was curious."

"Well you can _remain_ curious. Stay out of my things."

Evie smiles as she walks beside them.

As they step into the entrance hall, however, they fall silent at the sudden and distracting change of decor.

Tables have been shifted, the drapes have changed and... Are the statues different? Evie frowns.

Vivienne stands above them on her balcony. "Welcome, dear Inquisitor," she calls ostentatiously, spreading her arms. "As you can see, I took the liberty of shifting things around a bit. The old decor was just so stale. I knew you wouldn't mind."

"I'm confused," Evie murmurs while smiling politely up to Vivienne and waving.

Cassandra growls. "It is a power play."

"Morrigan arrived last night," Cole says heavily.

Cassandra keeps her head down, pointedly ignoring Vivienne, and says to Evie, "You mustn't let her rile you. That is what she is aiming for. You can set it back later, once this settles."

Evie shifts awkwardly. "I... don't actually remember what it looked like before. There were dogs... I think?"

Cassandra stares at her and shakes her head, giving a wry smile. "It's good you aren't bothered, then. Still, she's acting like a child."

"Everyone has a scared child inside," Cole says softly. "She pushes, tests, tries to make you angry because she doesn't trust you really want to keep her."

Evie spots Dorian walking out of the Keep and suddenly has a brilliant idea that is simultaneously petty and helpful.

"Are you on your way to give orders to the Chargers, Cassandra?" she asks.

"There is a short mission for them today, yes. Cullen wants to send them to follow up on Templar movement near Crestwood."

"Give the order to send Dorian with them," Evie says.

Out of the corner of her eye, she sees Cole turn his head, staring through her.

Cassandra frowns but doesn't ask. "Very well, consider it done." She nods to them both. "Cole... Evie. Be well. And be careful."

"Thank you, Cassandra," Cole says gently. He turns to Evie after Cassandra leaves and watches her steadily, the tilt of his jaw conveying that he doesn't think she's subtle.

"What? You said there was... something."

"Be careful, Evie," he warns. "If you're wrong, they will hurt."

"I know..." she says softly, "but I really think this will help. I wouldn't do it just to avoid him."

He nods, then squeezes her hand before they part ways.

-

Cole seeks out Blackwall later that afternoon, finds him in the stable and watches as he carves.

Blackwall leans casually against a crate by his workbench, lost in thought as his knife flicks chunks of wood away, one by one. Sunlight streams through the rafters, catching on slowly falling dust. It's quiet, apart from the noise from the horses. It feels alive and peaceful.

As Cole creeps forward, crouched on the staircase behind the workbench, the wood creaks and Blackwall jumps. He scrapes his knife out roughly, spinning around.

"Maker's _balls_ , Cole--" he growls. "What'd I tell you about sneaking up on people?"

"It's wood, but you see animals inside it," Cole murmurs. He pulls his arms over his knees and hunches, tugging his gloves shyly. "You make things with your knife. I would like to learn." He looks up, hopefully, and knots his hands.

Blackwall sighs. "Come down here, then."

Cole appears on the work table in the span of a breath, sitting cross-legged as Blackwall staggers back a step. He picks up a nearby piece of wood and turns it over in his hand, drawing his dagger.

"How do you see what it isn't yet?" he asks, confused.

Blackwall frowns. "You can't use just any dagger," he mutters. He reaches across his work table, brushing shavings away, and picks up a delicate silver carving knife. "Take this."

"Oh? Thank you." Cole smiles, turning it over with curiosity, a small shaft of sunlight glinting off the metal.

Cole watches as Blackwall starts to carve again. Blackwall's brows are furrowed, his earlier calm evaporated, but he stubbornly refuses to be put off by Cole's interruption. The head of a bear sticks out of the top of the block, lips pulled back in an angry roar, the edges of its ruff fading into ordinary wood.

"You see faces, figures-- trapped. You cut away the parts that aren't them so they can breathe again," Cole says in wonder.

Blackwall grunts. "That makes it sound a bit weird, but... yes." He continues carving silently.

Cole looks down at the wood in his hand with a frown and makes a few tentative scrapes. He pauses and looks back up at Blackwall, watching him in stillness for a while longer.

"The real Cole had a sister, too."

"We were having a nice quiet moment. Don't go and ruin it by poking through my head."

"She died as well," Cole continues, undeterred. "A pain that isn't mine, but it still hurts. That's strange, isn't it?"

"I cannot _begin_ to answer that--"

"Liddy seems kind. I like that time, with the flowers--"

" _Cole_ ," Blackwall barks, a sharp warning. He's stopped carving, glaring at him.

"Oh." Cole stills and looks away. "Sorry." He fidgets awkwardly on the table, unsure of what to do.

Blackwall sighs and sets aside his carving, picking up a fresh block of wood. Square, the size of his fist-- he tosses it in his hand a moment, feeling the heft. He traces his knife over the front of it, gesturing a circle, thinking, and then sighs and turns it over in his hand.

He steps closer to Cole and holds the block for him to see. "You just picture the shape and start cutting. Big pieces first, smaller ones later. Turn it and... imagine what it looks like from different angles. Cut an outline if it helps you," he says gruffly.

Cole tilts his head and tries it, staring at his own block as if trying to see _through_ it. He thinks of rabbits, of Bunny.

They work in silence for a time, Cole's rabbit taking on a rough, blocky shape, like a potato with ears. When he looks back up at Blackwall's figure, he frowns.

"You're not carving it right."

"Oh, and you're the expert now?" Blackwall scoffs.

"It's an owl now, but it wasn't before. Your heart saw a different shape," Cole insists.

"Nonsense," Blackwall mutters.

"A rose. Strong and unwilting. She would have--"

" _Stop_ , Cole," Blackwall frowns. "That's none of your business."

Cole looks up at him, confused. "I don't understand. It made you happy, for a moment, to think of her happy. Why do you push it away?"

"Let it be," Blackwall sighs.

"She would _like_ the rose," Cole tries in a small voice.

"Well she wouldn't like _me_ ," Blackwall growls. "You've seen what I've done. I'm a monster."

"No." Cole shakes his head. "You were. You're not now."

"You can't know that."

"I can!" Cole insists, leaning towards him.

"Oh right," Blackwall says sarcastically, "because you're the reason I'm here, aren't you? My champion, my defender, my _sponsor_?"

"You don't understand," Cole says softly, frowning. "Evie isn't good at trusting. It's hard for her. But she trusts me. She... borrows my trust. That's all."

Blackwall pauses. "You never told her what I did?" he asks in disbelief.

"It didn't matter."

Blackwall lets out a dark laugh.

"It's heavy, behind you, but what you do here weighs more. We _can_ be better."

"Redemption?" Blackwall asks bitterly. "There are days it feels like nothing more than a children's tale."

"You help," Cole says fiercely. "You _fight_ the monsters, keep the world safe. People are alive because of you who would be dead. It's _good_ that you're here."

Blackwall stares at him and sighs, shaking his head. "I don't see it but... Maker, I hope so, lad," he says roughly.

Cole reaches out, rests his hand on Blackwall's shoulder. Blackwall allows it for a moment, then shakes him off gruffly, stepping away. "Best run along now. It's getting late," he says.

"Thank you for teaching me. Here is your knife back."

"Keep it," Blackwall shrugs without looking. "I have others."

When he turns, Cole is gone.

-

After checking on the Ostwick mages, a messenger stops Evie in the courtyard and delivers three letters.

One is from her family, and she frowns and flips it aside. The second is from... Rhys? Her heart skips. She doesn't want to read that one yet, either. The third is a note from Leliana, telling her to head to the rookery. Curious, Evie makes her way there.

When she arrives, Leliana says nothing and hands her a wooden box. Inside, wrapped in cloth, is a vial of blood-- a phylactery.

It could be anyone's, but Evie knows it's hers. She feels a strange resonance. She realizes her mouth is open and closes it.

"How--"

"It wasn't easy. And it would have been far simpler if we disposed of it the moment we found it, but Cassandra was adamant-- you needed to see it destroyed yourself."

Evie's hand shakes as she reaches for it. "She... trusts me not to run?" she asks. She tries to speak lightly, jokingly, but her voice cracks.

"For a long time, now, yes," Leliana replies with something almost approaching gentleness.

Evie picks the vial up, turns it over in her hand. Something so small, so fragile, but it's held such power over her.

She smashes it onto the stone floor and the glass shatters. The sound startles the ravens and they all take flight, forcing Evie to duck as dozens fly past her out the window. The air is filled with a haze of feathers, black down blocking her view.

When the chaos clears, Leliana stands across from her, arms crossed and eyebrow raised. "Congratulations, Inquisitor," she proclaims with a sharp smile, "you are free."

-

Evie's steps are light all afternoon. As the sun dips lower and the sky turns gold, she gets the idea to sit on the ramparts to watch.

She goes back to her rooms and fetches the book from Dorian to read. She takes Rhys's letter from her pocket and hides it, bracing herself to deal with it later, and slips the letter from her family in between the book's pages to take with her. The lesser of two evils.

She finds a nice spot that looks over the valley and the camped soldiers and tries to read for a bit, but find's Dorian's book exceedingly boring.

She looks around at the scenery and spots Cole's hat in the distance. He's crouched on the bridge, a short distance away from two guards arguing emphatically. The rim of his hat tilts as he looks up at her, then he appears beside her on the ledge in a sudden flurry.

"Hello," she laughs.

He leans into her side, pushes his hand under her elbow and down her arm until their fingers link. He kicks his foot against the stone, comfortable. "Hello," he answers.

"What's their story?" she asks, motioning towards the guards.

"Friends in a fight," he says. "I... stole something to trick them to talk. They're both sorry, but didn't know how to say it."

She smiles at him, squeezing his hand. "You're so... important," she says softly, and he huffs, ducking his cheek against her shoulder, embarrassed.

He lifts his head after a moment and looks at her, his eyes narrowed. "You're happy, from earlier... Good news, a weight lifted, I'm _glad_ \--... but another worry still sits waiting. In... a book?" He leans forward, looking past her to where her book lies on the stone to her right. "You should open it now. I'm here, I will help."

She sighs and squeezes his hand. "All right," she says heavily, and pulls the letter out of the pages with trepidation.

It's short. Vague. Her mother compliments her on stories of her visit to the Winter Palace, asks what sorts of dresses she saw and what foods were served. It's all very pleasant, and ends with, _Your brother misses you. You simply must visit soon. There is much to discuss_.

She sighs and tears it up, letting the pieces catch in the wind. "Well, at least that's done," she says softly.

"Why does it make you sad? I don't understand."

Evie pauses, tightens her jaw, and explains, "She's hardly written to me the last few years. She didn't care when I was... hurt... at Ostwick. I was a burden to her, an inconvenience. Now that I've been to Halamshiral, I'm useful again." She leans into him.

He takes her weight against him with a hum, presses his cheek against the top of her head, noses her hair. After a pause, he asks, "I didn't know you had a brother. What is he like?"

She smiles wistfully. "Well, he's a foot taller every time I see him. He's... smart. He studies hard-- always has a book with him. Quiet, but friendly. He's... good. Honest." She trails off, not sure what else to say.

A silence falls between them. He rubs his thumb over her palm and closes his eyes, _listening_ to her.

"You hate the lies, the games they made you play. You play them too, sometimes, so easily. You think that makes you bad."

"Cole..."

"When your grandmother was cruel, you learned to say the words that would point her elsewhere. Like how I make people forget me."

She pauses. "Your way is certainly more effective."

"I don't think it's bad when you don't use it for bad things."

Evie sighs, steeling herself, doing her best to stubbornly fight back sad thoughts. She doesn't want to be sad today. She sits up and kicks her feet. "Thank you for saying that, Cole," she says as she looks out over the sunset.

"You're welcome," he says hesitantly, watching her for a moment before turning straight ahead and fidgeting. "...Varric has been teaching me knock knock jokes," he says after a pause. "I still don't understand them, but he says this one is funny..."

"How does it go?" she smiles looking up.

He opens his mouth but then frowns and looks around. "Wait. You have to--" He climbs up, hopping down onto the stone walkway and tugging her after him, pulling her back toward the door to one of the towers. "You have to stand here," he insists.

She stays obediently where he puts her, her face lit with amusement. He opens the door and enters the empty tower, shutting it quietly behind him.

"Knock, knock," he calls from within, without actually knocking.

"Who's there?" she calls back.

"Adore."

Evie tilts her head, a smile tugging at her lips. "Adore... who?"

"A _door_ is between us," Cole says exaggeratedly. "Open up!"

Evie blinks then laughs in surprise. She opens the door all the way to see him.

He looks down and tugs his sleeve. "It's funny because one word sounds like another. And there's a door... it-- it made sense when Varric explained it." He looks up at her, flustered. "Did I do it right?"

"Yes," she grins and then laughs again.

He smiles back. "I'm glad. I-I want to make you happy."

She leans up, bracing her hands on his upper arms, and kisses him on the nose.

Cole hums with his eyes closed. "Playfulness. _Adoration_." He chuckles at the word.

"Cole?"

"That's what that kiss meant."

They hear footsteps on the stones behind them and turn. Archivist Grayson walks up the stairs, nodding to them both pleasantly.

"Good evening, both of you. Beautiful sunset."

Evie takes a quick step back, finally understanding how her classmates must have felt, caught in storerooms or side corridors by passing teachers.

"G-Good evening, sir."

The Archivist closes his eyes and murmurs a spell, raising his hand, slow and non-threatening.

"Oh!" Cole says, looking down. There's a soft green-blue glow emanating from his chest. "That tickles."

"What--?" Evie begins.

"Just checking," the Archivist says with a pleasant wave, then turns and trudges back down the steps.

Evie gapes a moment. She looks to Cole, confused, then takes a jerky step forward to follow. Archivist Grayson wouldn't-- but what did he--

Cole catches her by the sleeve of her elbow and she turns, pulled backward. The strange glow has already almost completely faded. He tilts his head, watching where the old man left, but looking somewhere else entirely.

"He... wanted to see me like you do," he says, stilted, "to be certain you were safe."

"And... did he?" Evie asks, somehow dreading either answer.

"He saw what he wanted."

-

Bull and the Chargers arrive back later that night, well after dark. Evie sees them as she walks down the stone steps alone, Cole having disappeared to help another hurting soul.

She smiles as she sees them all walk across the courtyard to the tavern together, Dorian in tow.

"I think my eyebrows are still singed," Stitches complains, picking at one with his thumb. Grim grunts.

"Come on, hothead," Dalish says, elbowing Dorian. "I'll buy you a drink if you show me ways to get my _arrows_ to land harder."

"Hothead? No--Spitfire!" Bull grins, pointing at Dorian. "That's what we should call you."

"Beg pardon-- I do not _spit_ magic," Dorian sneers.

"How about _Firetongue_?" Bull asks, waggling his eyebrows.

"How would you like to _be_ on fire?" Dorian asks darkly.

Krem laughs with glee and throws his arm over Dorian's shoulder. "He's not taking any of your shit, Chief," he grins.

Dorian stumbles lightly into Krem for a moment, looking at him in surprise, then glancing at the others. "I-- You're all really not bothered, fighting alongside a Tevinter mage...?" He sounds like the wind's been knocked out of him.

"We are not exactly fine, upstanding citizens," Skinner says dryly.

"Band of misfits is what we are," Stitches calls.

"Damn right," answers Krem. "Bunch of assholes. You fit right in," he says, thumping Dorian on the chest roughly.

Dorian lets out a weak _oof_ and gets herded into the tavern with them, a small smile tugging at his lips.

Bull goes to enter last, but spots Evie on the steps. "Hey, boss--!" he calls. "New mission soon. Important. I already briefed Red, but you'll want to get ready to head out. Sooner the better. Tonight, if possible. This could be big."

"Yeah?" she asks.

"Yeah," he agrees with a grin. "Qunari alliance. Just think-- They're willing to give you an _army_."

-

She goes looking for Cole specifically this time, searching the dark corners of the Keep by moonlight. Varric helpfully points her to the gardens and that's where she finds him-- sitting in the grass, playing a game with Kieran, moving pebbles on a board by torchlight.

Evie leans against a pillar, still shadowed under the alcove, and smiles softly. She doesn't want to interrupt, not yet. She'll just give them a bit longer.

Morrigan steps from the darkness behind her. "That spirit you've adopted certainly is fascinating," she says, scaring the life out of Evie.

Heart pounding, she spins and gapes for a moment before recovering. "I-I didn't adopt him. He made himself human. He's a person. And he's kind, and gentle, and curious, and clever, and so wonderful... if people would just take the time to get to know him, if they would see him for who he is and not what he is--" She swallows, flustered. "S-sorry."

Morrigan nods her head coolly and turns to watch the two play. "Point taken. In truth, I relate to that far more than you know."

Evie looks over at Kieran and then back at Morrigan, shifting awkwardly. "Cole trusts you," she says softly, "and he trusts Kieran. Please understand, that's enough for me. I won't ever ask questions, I won't ask what makes Kieran different," she promises. "If you need help, just ask."

Morrigan gives a crooked smile. "That is kind of you. Foolish, I fear, but kind. I thank you, Inquisitor."

Normally Evie wouldn't correct her, but maybe Cole is right-- she should be more honest, let others get to know her honestly. "I'm not fond of the title. Please, just call me Evie," she says firmly and holds out her hand for Morrigan to shake.

Morrigan does so with an amused look. "Very well then, _Evie_."

When Evie looks back across the garden, Cole is staring over at her, smiling.

"Oh, hush," she murmurs under her breath with an embarrassed smile.

Cole leans forward to say something to Kieran then disappears, reappearing at Evie's side and toppling into her, startling a laugh.

He wraps his arms around her waist and kisses her on the nose, a soft peck. He pulls back to look at her, eyes bright and playful. "Hello," he says.

"Hello," she returns, and her face hurts from how wide she's grinning. "You're sort of ridiculous," she says.

"Yes," he says with a content smile. He leans forward and presses his forehead to hers, his eyes closed, hair falling in her eyes.

"We have to leave soon," she says regretfully.

"All right," he answers. "We will finish our game." He takes a deep breath, forehead still pressed to hers, then pulls back, smiles again, and disappears.

He's back to sitting by Kieran after that, stealing glances at Evie shyly with a small, satisfied grin.

After he disappears, Evie combs her fingers through her hair, blushing furiously, but still smiling. After a moment, she breaks into a bright laugh for no reason.

Morrigan rolls her eyes. "Ah, young love. Patron of fools and folly alike."

-

They head to the stables and prepare to leave. It will be a short trip, one day at best. They'll travel light and ride quickly.

As they cinch their saddles, Cole turns to one of the horses and frowns. "There's an itch-- a grain of sand that grinds. Her shoe is wrong," he says.

One of the scouts loading their horses stops and looks confused, but Harding steps forward. "Thank you, Ser Cole," she says, and immediately swaps that horse for another.

"I am not a knight," Cole frowns as she leaves.

Evie smiles. "You should be. I should invent an order to make you a knight of. I can do that, right?" She nudges his elbow as they go to mount up.

"I don't know. You can if they think you can," he says, unsure.

"Ser Cole of the Order of Floppy Hats," she grins, undaunted. "Ser Cole of the Knock Knock Jokes. Valiant Ser Cole, Guardian of the Nugs."

Cole tilts his head and lets out delighted laugh. "You're _teasing_ me!"

"Is that all right?" she asks with uncertainty, turning her horse to walk beside him.

"I like it," Cole smiles. "It makes me feel like I'm just like everyone else."

"Don't be ridiculous," she scoffs. "You're a thousand times better than everyone else." She bumps his shin as her horse passes.

"You make me feel like I could be," he says softly as he follows her. "Better. More."

They ride out, spirits light-- and in some of the Chargers' cases, lightheaded from spirits-- and keep a good pace late through the night, making camp right up the hill from the meeting point just after dawn. Most of them rest while they wait for Bull's contact, but Bull sits away from the camp, keeping watch, restless and alert.

They kept the party small for this excursion-- only Evie, Cole, Dorian, Bull, and the Chargers. It was Bull who invited Dorian this time-- not that Dorian was particularly _grateful_. He complained most of the night about missing sleep, and had managed to get fairly drunk in the hour the Chargers spent relaxing in the tavern. As soon as they made camp, he collapsed exhausted in a tent, snoring loudly.

"Least he'll scare the bears away, Chief," Krem grins, "though he still can't compete with you."

"Shut up," Bull grumbles. "And get some rest."

"Aye-aye," Krem says with a mock salute.

Inside their own tent, Evie tucks her head under Cole's chin and falls asleep in moments.

-

Bull wakes them to a downpour, a mid-morning rain bouncing off the hillsides and pooling in the rocks far below, making everything feel soggy. The Chargers grumble but are geared up and ready to go like clockwork. Evie and Dorian lag behind, staggering to keep up.

They meet Gatt, who isn't anything like what Evie expected. He's an elf, for one.

And he knows Cole is a demon.

She snaps when she learns that, pulls Bull away to the edge of the treeline, furious. "You told Gatt about him?!"

"I didn't tell Gatt," Bull replies calmly. "I reported to my superiors. _They_ told Gatt."

"You shouldn't have told them _anything_ about him!"

Bull frowns. "I'm a spy. I told you that up front. I've reported on all of you. And if you don't trust him, _maybe you shouldn't be making such a scene_."

Evie steps back as if slapped. She feels as if the ground has quietly cracked under her, rocks sluicing down the hillside like the rain, crumbling away and leaving her footing unsure. She's furious, but she isn't sure if it's at Bull or herself.

And of course, things only get worse from there.

-

The dreadnought takes out the lyrium supplier, but the Chargers get surrounded by Venatori mages. Bull spots them closing in and swears.

Evie rushes to help them, but Bull throws out an arm to stop her. "You won't get there in time," he growls.

"We have to do something--!" she shouts, shoving at him, but Gatt crosses his arms, unmoved.

"No, Hissrad is right. It's up to them to hold the position now. A noble sacrifice."

" _Sacrifice_?" Dorian says in disbelief. "You can't be serious." 

"...There're too many," Bull says, his eyes locked on the hillside. "They won't make it." He shakes his head and steps back, a blank look in his eyes.

"So call them off!" Dorian shouts.

"They have to hold that position or the dreadnought is lost. As is the alliance," Gatt says darkly.

"No, we can save them--!" Evie says, but there's hesitation. Uncertainty.

Bull looks from the hill to Gatt and sighs. "They know what they signed up for," he says dully.

"No!" Evie screams with frustration and Cole rushes into her, wrapping his arms around her and breathing harshly. He looks to the hill, eyes darting between the Venatori and the Chargers. Calculating how far he can jump, and how many he can take on. Evie sees it in his eyes, digs her fingers into his tunic, determined to stay beside him-- "Cole--"

" _Vishante kaffas_ ," Dorian shouts viciously before they can act, "you pea-brained, two-faced, lying sack of-- THEY'RE YOUR FRIENDS." He launches a burst of flames high into the sky, burning so fiercely through the rain that it lights up the hillside. "RUN," he screams, waving his arms at them when they look up at his flare. "RUN YOU FOOLS--"

A few moments later, a horn sounds behind them. Bull looks just as surprised as Dorian to find it in his hands, eyebrows high on his forehead and his breaths harsh and shallow. "I--"

"Hissrad, you _traitor_ \--" Gatt spits out, but Dorian rushes forward and punches him. Gatt tries to retaliate but Bull pulls him off, holds him back as he struggles.

In the distance, the Chargers get clear of the Venatori, abandoning the dreadnought to its fate. Dorian swears, looks at Bull and Gatt with a glare, and runs off to meet them. Bull's eyes watch him go, never leaving his form until he disappears in the mist.

"We don't need their stupid alliance," Evie mutters and Gatt scoffs at her.

"I didn't realize you were so short-sighted," Gatt sneers.

"You'll either fight the Venatori on your own or you won't. It's in your best interest to stand back and let us kill each other off! I'd rather go it alone than have you close enough to hurt us when we're weak," she says coldly. With that, she leaves to follow Dorian.

Bull sends Gatt away for his own safety, his voice sounding empty to his own ears. Gatt makes it perfectly clear that not only is the alliance demolished, so is Bull's place in the Qun.

" _Tal-vashoth_ ," Bull mutters as he trudges back to camp. True grey. _Savage_.

Cole appears beside him, touching his elbow gently. " _Here_ ," he whispers.

Bull sighs. "You don't have to do that outside of combat, kid. There's no chaos of battle. I can hear you."

"Your thoughts are chaos," Cole says softly.

He darts in front of Bull, blocking his path, and then steps forward to hug him. His arms don't even span Bull's waist.

Bull looks down at him awkwardly and pats his hair. "I'm fine, kid," he says without emotion.

"Fighting for friends, for a purpose, it will keep you _you_ ," Cole murmurs. "You won't be a monster. I won't let you. I promise."

"Thanks kid, but it's not that simple."

"It can be!" Cole says worriedly. "You're safe here. Needed, loved. It can be a new home. No rules to keep you rigid, but other things have grown in their place, like tree roots twining underground, tracing walls. The stone may crumble away, but there's still enough to keep you solid, steady, sheltered."

"That makes no fucking sense, you know that?" Bull grumbles.

"Krem is alive because of you," Cole says. "Dalish. Stitches--"

"Stop, kid--"

"--Skinner, Rocky, Grim--"

"I said _stop_ ," Bull growls, covering Cole's mouth with his enormous palm, gripping his shoulder with a jolt. Cole looks up at him mournfully.

They stare at each other a moment until Bull sighs and moves his hand away, pushing past Cole and walking towards the camp with a huff. Cole frowns after him, and shouts into the wind and the rain, "It will get better. You belong here with us now. _We_ are your home."

Bull grunts and keeps walking.

-

They arrive back in Skyhold late, the return trip slow and weary.

Evie storms straight to her room and paces, frustrated and worried, her mind calling up ideas for ways to protect Cole from the Qunari before immediately discarding them. She doesn't understand them, and she doesn't understand how to defend against them. She can't believe Bull _lied_.

Cole watches for a while before finally stepping in front of her and pulling her into an embrace to hold her still. "Hush, Evie," he says.

"I didn't say anything," she replies childishly.

Cole ignores her, threads his fingers through her hair. "He's still what you thought. There's more now, deeper designs underneath, but he hasn't changed. You need to let the anger go."

She pulls back and looks at him, searching.

"I would tell you if he wanted to hurt us," Cole insists.

She gives him a pained look. "But would you say anything if he wanted to hurt _you_?"

Cole sighs and closes his eyes, his head tilting as if he's trying to capture a memory just right. He takes a deep breath and says in a rough voice, " _Raven intercepted over Antiva, they know there's a demon. Should have told them sooner, this looks bad. He isn't something they've seen before. Viddasala will have an extraction team within a week. Containment. Combat applications. Doesn't matter_ \--"

"Cole--" Evie says, but he presses all four fingertips to her lips and continues.

"-- _The kid doesn't deserve it. If he's just some fool bas saarebas pet they won't look twice. Better a tool than an unknown. Have to tell them he's_ bound _and then_ \--" Cole looks up and takes a short breath of air, says in a rush, "Evie, don't you see? He _lied_."

Evie feels a tension deep within her uncoil and relax. She reaches for his hand. "He... had to tell them something? To protect you?"

"He doesn't think he did. He followed the Qun, always. ... Sometimes he lies to himself, too. His heart is big and kind and doesn't fit into the boxes they made for him."

He pulls her over to the side balcony, points to a forgotten stretch of ramparts. She sees Bull's hulking form, far below, staring out across the mountains.

"Heart sinks like a ship, darkness round the edges. _What am I now_?" Cole looks to Evie. "He's our friend and he's hurting."

Evie nods and grabs her coat. "R-Right. I'll meet you back here later?" she asks, kissing his cheek.

"Later," he agrees softly. "Another pain still pulls me tonight."

-

Vivienne turns when she hears someone approach behind her. She stands silhouetted against the moonlight on her balcony, dark shadows and cold stone. The torchlight from the entrance hall doesn't reach up here, and she hasn't lit candles of her own.

"What do you want, demon?" she asks coldly as he steps from the shadows.

"You're safe here, Vivienne. You don't need to worry," he says.

She sneers. "Oh this is glorious. You mean to _help_ me," she says with a laugh.

He tilts his head. "You say that but mean the opposite. Do you think you can't be helped?"

Her eyes narrow. "I know better than to accept help from a demon."

He huffs, reaching a hand up to tug at his bags. "You don't really believe I would offer you a deal. You know I'm not _like_ that. Why say it?" he asks, frustrated.

"You're right," she says, stepping forward. "You're not the dealing sort of demon. You're the foolishly naive sort that doesn't even know _what_ it is." She pauses a moment, contemplating, then raises her head proudly. "Very well... you wish to help? There is a contingent of Templars arriving tomorrow. They have something of mine. A book. I would ask you to steal it back." She waits, crossing her arms and watching him coldly.

Cole stares ahead steadily. A long silence passes between them. Vivienne stands perfectly motionless, like a statue, and nothing in her face is readable.

Finally, Cole nods. "Yes. I will help."

"Splendid," she says dryly. "Perhaps you can be of use after all. Now be gone, I have other matters to attend to." She waves her hand but he disappears before she can finish speaking.

Vivienne waits a moment in the stillness, then casts a silent spell to detect demons. She steps away, grabs a small scroll, and by the light of the moon she pens a warning to send ahead.

 

 

 


	11. Chapter 11

 

Evie dashes through the keep to find Bull. Wearing only her nightclothes and a large coat, she sticks to the shadows, feeling a bit ridiculous.

If only her followers could see her now.

There aren't more than a handful of souls out at this hour, most of them guards. A few look her way but recognize her light hair in the moonlight and leave her to her business.

She finds him sulking on the battlements. Even hunched, he's still huge and intimidating. She falters as she reaches him, wishing for a moment that she stopped to plan this all out before charging in.

"I...I'm sorry I yelled at you. Earlier," she says.

Bull's shrugs, still gazing out across the mountainside. "It's fine," he says gruffly.

Hm. Evie could be gruff, too. She considers telling him he did a good job, that he's still valuable. The Inquisition _needs_ the Chargers. Slap him on the shoulder and insist things will get better. But even she can tell he's hurt and confused. She wishes she knew what Cole would do. How do you say, 'I'm sorry the people you fight for disowned you'? _I'm sorry you can never go home_.

She moves forward and sits down delicately in the crenel to the left of him, her slippered feet pulled up beneath her, the cold wind from the mountains at her back. She takes a deep breath to steady herself. She needs to be strong, be brave. To be _tough_.

"We need you here," she says. "It all turned out like shit and I'm sorry. I'm sorry we didn't bring more people, maybe they could have helped. Maybe you wouldn't have had to choose."

He turns his head to look at her, turns all the way so his right eye can see her-- She curses herself-- she sat in his blind spot, _not helping_ \--

She grits her teeth and continues, "If... if those idiots want to abandon you, that's their loss. We'll take you. We want you here."

He wouldn't want coddling, she knows that. She wouldn't know what to say to him if he did. He's not the type for the touchy-feely stuff. She racks her brain for what to say next. He had a place in the Qun. A puzzle piece that fit.

"You fit here," she says, and it's out of her mouth before she figures out the rest.

Bull snorts. "Yeah, the kid already went over that."

"He did?" she asks, surprised and somewhat hopeful. Was she on the right track?

"Yep." Bull pops the "P" casually, but he's watching her now. She has his attention.

"Right... But you expect that from Cole, don't you?" she tries, shifting anxiously. "I'm the Inquisitor, I'm the one in charge of this whole ridiculous army. So I'm telling you, too. You're _needed_ here. We know who you are and we want you."

"Thought you were pissed I told Gatt about the kid."

She looks away. "Cole said... you only told them what you had to. That you protected him."

Bull huffs, frustration slipping through his calm demeanor in the space of a breath. "That's not just-- I'm... dangerous. I can _be_ dangerous."

Something clicks. Her eyebrows raise. "Wait-- You're afraid you'll lose control?"

Bull rolls his shoulder and leans back against the battlements, staring out restlessly. He doesn't answer, but there's a tension in him that tells her she's right.

"You're not the first, you know... We've got a lot of that here," she says. "I think... if you know the risk, and you watch out for it, this is a good place to be. Others can keep an eye out. You think Cole wouldn't notice if you were slipping?" _We'll keep you safe_ , she wants to promise, but the words catch in her throat. They came so close to losing the Chargers, she can't really promise anything like that anymore.

Bull looks back to her, his expression dark, before he lets out a long, heavy sigh, scrubbing his hand over his face, his shoulders slumping.

"You haven't called me boss this whole time. Does that mean something?" Evie asks quietly.

He laughs tiredly. "It means something else in Qunlat," he murmurs. "I don't feel right saying it anymore."

"Wait-- have you been insulting me this entire time?" Evie asks, dumbfounded.

He gives her a sideways look. "Maybe. What would you do if I was?"

"I don't know." She laughs, too.

They stare at each other a moment, then he sighs and walks in front of her, sitting down with a _humph_. Evie flinches but waits, curious. Legs crossed, he rests an elbow on one knee, chin in his hand, and watches her intently.

She wraps her arms over her knees. A cold wind kicks up behind her, swirling her hair around, and she shivers slightly. She's sitting two stones higher on the ledge, but because of his sheer size they're still almost eye-to-eye.

"You're not like most leaders," he says.

She huffs. "You mean I have no idea what I'm doing and I got here entirely through dumb luck?"

"Ha! That _is_ like most leaders," he says. "But no, I meant your posture."

She sits up straighter. "What about my posture?"

" _Body language_ ," he enunciates. "It's a big part of reading people. Most folks who are top of the food chain always try to make themselves bigger. Stand with their legs apart, shoulders wide. To intimidate."

"So you're saying I should stand on the ledge and yell at you?"

"Nah. People like that, they're compensating. Afraid someday someone's going to see they're really _not_ that big." He leans forward and whispers conspiratorially, "It's the small ones you've got to watch out for."

She snickers. "What, you think I'm sneaky?"

Bull rolls his eyes. "You and the kid couldn't lie to save your lives."

"I've lied plenty," she defends.

"Not to anyone who cared enough to look. You're an open book."

She's not sure how she feels about that. That he sees her, that he has the entire time. She settles on a small smile. "You're not that great of a liar, either, then. Who you've cared about has always shown through. Don't know how you got the nickname."

Another gust of wind hits her back. She shivers harshly. She's tired-- exhausted, really-- and it's starting to catch up with her.

Bull's eyes don't miss it, of course they don't. "Go on. Get out of here, Shorty," he says. "You need to sleep."

"No, I--" she frowns. "Wait, _Shorty_?"

"Apparently Tiny's taken. Could do Pipsqueak. Shrimp. Itty Bitty--"

"Bull, _everyone's_ short next to you."

He grins, sharklike. "Yeah, so?"

"Your nicknames are shit compared to Varric's," she grumbles, dropping her feet to the ground.

He laughs, loud and hearty. "You're just noticing this _now_?"

She stands, wrapping her coat tightly around herself. She moves to leave but stops in front of him, hesitant and worried. He puts his hand on her shoulder, his palm so wide it curls over the top of her arm.

"I just need some time," he says softly, "but thank you."

"But--"

"I'll still be here in the morning. Promise."

He nudges her along toward the stairs. She walks numbly, shivering again-- mostly from exhaustion, but she's cold, too-- and turns back to face him at the top. He's silhouetted by the moon, his great horns looking wide and menacing, but she can see him give her a small half-smile before turning to go back to his spot.

She opens her mouth to call to him, but she doesn't know what else to say. She's clearly been dismissed.

There's a lump in her throat as she hurries back down the steps to her quarters. She can't help but feel she failed. Having to be sent off because she was _tired_ , cold. And she is-- _so_ tired now that she lets herself feel it. She'll barely make it to bed before collapsing.

But she should have been stronger.

She'll make it up to Bull tomorrow, she promises. Somehow.

-

Cole crawls into her bed a short time later, after she's already burrowed under her blankets. He slips behind her silently and holds her, pressing his face into her shoulder. His arms link over hers across her chest and he taps his thumb absently against her forearm.

"I don't know if I helped him. I tried," she mumbles, barely awake.

His finger tapping pauses for a moment, then starts again. "We have to try, always, don't we?" he whispers back.

She drifts off quickly in his arms, warm and safe. She doesn't see him in her dreams.

-

Cole is gone when she wakes, but she doesn't worry. Instead she dresses quickly and rushes down to the Undercroft before the morning meetings. She has an idea. Not necessarily a good idea, but--

She wants to cheer Bull up. And what does he like? (Besides dragons, she thinks.)

_Axes_.

She'll commission one for him. One he'll like. Made out of the best materials they have available. She pictures his face when he receives it and bites her lip, unable to contain her smile.

She puts in the request and dashes back up the stairs to the main hall feeling quite proud of herself.

-

Cole stops by Sera's room that morning as he makes his rounds of the keep. He _steps_ through the open window, a book in his hands. He appears rather awkwardly, facing the far wall, and manages to turn just in time to see her spill a bottle of ink on her pillows, swearing furiously.

"Nugshit! What'd I tell you about sneaking up on me, Creepy?!"

"Sorry, Sera," he says absently, tilting his head to read the word she was writing across her knuckles. It's difficult because the letters are upside-down. He sounds it out and then blushes, looking away. "I-I wanted to ask you for something..."

Sera glares steadily at him. "Go ahead and ask. Don't think for a second it means I'll do it."

Cole holds out the book hopefully. "Evie has to read this and it's very boring. I think she would be happier if you read it, too, and drew your pictures in it."

Sera squints at him but grabs the book. "Just to be clear, yeah? You're asking me to deface library property?"

"You could draw faces. O-or anything else you like. She laughed when you drew Blackwall as a sad bear."

Sera snickers to herself and starts flipping through the pages, considering. After a moment she snaps the book shut and looks back to him. "Yeah, all right. I'm not doing this for you, though, you got it?"

"No..." Cole says slowly, "it's for Evie."

"Yeah, I know-- _argh_ , nevermind. Just go, I'll do it," she waves him off.

"Thank you, Sera," he says pleasantly.

"Stop _talking_ ," she replies, and throws a pillow at him as he disappears.

-

The war room meeting is difficult. Evie stares down at the table as she makes her official report of the destruction of the Qunari alliance. She braces herself for reprimands and disappointment and is surprised when Cassandra puts a hand on her shoulder and gives a gentle squeeze.

"If Dorian hadn't acted, I can see that you would have. Perhaps I would have, too, given the same choice. It is nothing to be ashamed of, protecting your people," Cassandra says.

Evie looks around the room in surprise, but the others support her as well. Leliana gives her a steady nod, Cullen a small, encouraging smile.

Josephine sighs and taps her quill. "The Qunari were... a dangerous alliance, to be fair. This may be for the best."

"What's done is done," Leliana says firmly. "We must move forward."

The meeting lasts until midday, all of them working with their heads bowed over the table. Cullen reports troop movements, Leliana updates them on her progress investigating Alistair's Grey Warden intel, and Josephine addresses the complaints and demands of their diplomatic allies.

Finally, as they move to leave, Cassandra brings up one last issue. "I'm afraid I must leave for a few days. There is a personal matter I must take care of," she says.

"Leave? Alone?" Evie asks, surprised.

"Seekers in my order have gone missing. Leliana has unearthed a trail leading to Caer Oswin-- her scouts report no apparent danger, but I must investigate."

"But why would you go alone?"

Cassandra looks at her in sympathy. "You are still troubled by the events with the Qunari. This is a personal matter. There's no cause to make an expedition of it."

Evie frowns. She won't have Cassandra making excuses for her. "It could be _dangerous_ \--"

Cassandra holds up her hand, the corner of her lip rising just a hint. "I am touched by your concern, but I am quite capable of handling myself."

Evie sighs. "At least take someone with you? To watch your back."

Cassandra hesitates but relents. "I will ask Warden Blackwall to accompany me. Is that acceptable?"

Evie bites her lip but nods. "Be safe, Cassandra."

"Thank you, Evie."

-

Evie sees Josephine laying out stacks of papers at her desk as she passes. Josephine looks up with a brief smile, then goes back to flipping through sheets.

"Your dear friend has absolutely no sense of time, does he?" she mutters absently.

"Sorry?" Evie asks.

Josephine tucks a curl of hair behind her ear, looking frazzled. "Cole! He has been late to every one of his lessons."

"Oh. He has?" Evie looks around, as if to help search for him, feeling awkwardly responsible. "I'm sure he doesn't mean--"

Josephine shakes her head and steps out from behind her desk. "No, no, it's fine. I've found that if I stand outside and think _very loudly_ that I am upset with him, he will appear within moments."

Evie doesn't know whether to laugh or apologize. "That... does sound about right."

"If he weren't so endearing, he would find himself in no shortage of trouble," Josephine grumbles as she passes, giving a polite nod to Evie before leaving, the clack of her heels echoing off the stone as she walks.

Evie has a sudden, sinking realization.

She's been putting off reading Rhys's letter for fear of Cole finding out-- especially if Rhys's answer was a disappointment. With Cole sleeping in her room as of late, Evie can never be completely sure he won't turn up out of the blue. She doesn't want him to know if it's not good news, and doesn't want him to have time to wait and worry even if it is-- she has to keep this secret.

And it seems she knows exactly where Cole will be for the next hour.

She has no excuse for avoiding the letter any longer. She has to face it. She clenches her hands into fists and hurries up to her quarters.

-

"Pastries?" Josephine asks in surprise.

"You smelled them when you passed the kitchens this morning," Cole says, holding out the parcel. "You've been skipping meals lately. You think you'll have time to eat later, but you never do. You shouldn't go hungry, Josephine," he tells her, his tone carrying the gentlest of reprimands.

She accepts the parcel with wide eyes, setting it on the corner of her desk and unfolding the napkin carefully. "Thank you, Cole. This is... very kind. I suppose I should not ask where they came from?"

"They didn't see me," he says defensively.

She gives a weak laugh and tears a piece off of one to try. They're delicious, still fresh and warm. He sits across from her, scoots his chair forward with a rough sound then folds his hands in his lap.

"Would you like some?" she offers.

"I... don't eat." He shifts, looking down to pick at his gloves.

"Truly?" she asks in disbelief. "How--" She sees his shoulders tense up and stops herself. "Ah. Nevermind that, then. Thank you for thinking of me, Cole."

"You're welcome, Josephine. I'm sorry I forgot our lesson again." He keeps his gaze on the floor, eyes hidden under the shadow of his hat.

She sighs helplessly. "You needn't worry, Cole. It is completely impossible to be upset with you. Now, start with that sheet there, we'll begin--"

-

_Inquisitor,_

_I feel obligated to warn you that no good has ever come from summoning demons._

_It's true, I am a spirit medium, but as the name implies I prefer to deal with spirits - not demons. You would do well not to confuse the two. Demons are monstrous creatures that seek only to harm, while spirits are wayward beings simply unable to find their way home. I hold no love for the former, and far more sympathy for the latter than polite company would allow._

_Perhaps some of my knowledge and experience would be of use to you, but I am unwilling to volunteer it as I fear you would ask for more than I wish to give._

_I don't mean to pass judgment - I know little of the choices you must face. Closing rifts and saving the world is a fearsome task; I don't fault you for looking outside of conventional teachings. However, I do urge caution. Some deals cannot be undone._

_For whatever it's worth, my companion Evangeline and I would happily pledge our more mundane assistance to your cause. The giant hole in the sky is a concern to everyone, and a sword and staff may still be of some help, however small._

_I've left instructions with your scout on how to contact us. Apologies if this wasn't the answer you were hoping for._

_-Rhys_

Evie reads through the letter three times and sits, a small part of her almost disappointed to read integrity, loyalty, and courage in his words. She taps her quill for a minute before deciding on the direct route.

Scrawling a single sentence, she folds and seals it, then adds a second note with instructions for the scout. The wheels are in motion, and she might not like the results, but she _will_ do what is right.

-

Evie has to be at the gates that afternoon for welcoming duty (Josephine's _strict_ orders), but the party hasn't arrived yet and she finds herself with time to spare. She walks across the grass, wondering where to wander, when she hears sounds of construction up by the tavern and the Archivist's reedy voice shouting orders. She grins and rushes up the courtyard steps to see him.

The Ostwick mages have been helping speed construction around Skyhold, using their magic to lift and move objects into place much faster than the workers were able to manage.

When Evie reaches the top of the stairs, however, she is dismayed to see Vivienne approach her mentor just before her.

"Little Vivvy, my dear girl!" Grayson calls, opening his arms to her. "It's wonderful to see you again."

"And you as well," Vivienne says, placing her hands on the old man's shoulders delicately and kissing both of his cheeks.

Evie watches them interact with all the detached, horrified fascination that one would feel at seeing a talking nug in a ballgown. _Little Vivvy_? And Vivienne allowed that? Evie knows her eyes must be as wide as saucers, but it's all so surreal.

"Have you spoken with Lydia yet?" the Archivist asks. "She has been so anxious to see you, child. And you know her health isn't what it used to be."

"Not as of yet. We keep missing each other, I'm afraid."

Evie had forgotten Ostwick was Vivienne's Tower long ago. Did the Archivist ever look after her as well? Evie can't fathom the concept. She tries to picture Vivienne as young and impressionable but only manages to picture a smaller, more high-pitched version of Vivienne's current self.

Evie should not have been gaping out in the open. The Archivist spots her and her stomach plummets. He smiles and waves, and Vivienne turns as well, barely suppressing a frown.

"Hello," Evie calls awkwardly. "I can come back later if you like. You look busy."

"Don't be silly! Come join us," the Archivist says warmly. "Vivienne used to be at our Tower, you know. Have you spent time with her while she's been here? I could introduce the two of you--"

"We've... fought together," Evie says. _And fought_ with _each other_ , her mind supplies.

"She is a formidable ally," he says proudly and Vivienne preens. "You girls are a lot alike," he continues-- Vivienne's smile sours. "--why, did you know that when she was a child they caught her in the kitchen pantry once in the dead of night with--"

"Oh, quite enough of that, Grayson," Vivienne laughs brightly, putting a hand on his arm.

"What? With what?" Evie asks.

Vivienne gives the Archivist a look that promises dark retribution and he chuckles.

"Of course, of course. I'm sure you have something you wished to discuss with me," he says to Vivienne and his eyes crinkle. "You never _truly_ approach anyone just to chat."

Vivienne looks over at Evie shrewdly for a moment and Evie can see her mind whirring, like someone calculating a chess move. Then the moment is gone and Vivienne puts a hand to her chest and smiles to the Archivist graciously.

"There _was_ something I wanted to speak to you about, Grayson..." she says. "With your involvement in the construction, I was hoping I might count on your support to renovate the northern watchtower. Space for a proper arcane library is sorely lacking, and we would be able to put down proper circles and runes without some mundane researcher stomping through them."

"That sounds like a wonderful idea, my dear, but we both know I'm not the one making that decision." Grayson turns to Evie.

Evie watches them both warily, but shrugs. "No one else is using it, I don't see why there'd be a problem." Why would Vivienne plot over this? And why would she think Evie would say no?

"I believe that Ser Barris and his men were eyeing the space," the Archivist explains, reading her confusion. "If you allocate it for mages, it may be seen as you taking a stand in their favor rather than the Templars."

"I disbanded the Templars," Evie says automatically.

Vivienne scoffs. "Just because you said it doesn't make it so, dear. Hundreds of years of history isn't so easy to erase."

"Indeed. Many still identify as Templars, even without an official order to report to," Grayson agrees. "Some... might argue bias-- that you're weighing the needs of the few against the needs of the many. Are you prepared for that?"

"Ser Barris and his men are _soldiers_ here," Evie says, "and we have always accommodated them the best that we're able. I don't see why they would make a fuss over it."

"Ser Barris is a reasonable man," the Archivist agrees. "Still, you might speak to him first, as a show of good will."

"You think that's necessary?" Evie asks. The Archivist gives her a placid shrug.

She looks around the area at the soldiers, some still in their Templar armor, some not. Some talking with mages, others standing in the wings, watchful. She feels the echoes of old fears bubble to the surface and looks up to the tower in the distance anxiously.

"It makes more sense as a mage tower. They need the space, the studies can help the Inquisition immensely--" she says, "but... but _no one_ will sleep there. Are we clear?" she asks, turning to Vivienne. "The dorms will stay across the keep."

The Archivist tilts his head. "Is there any reason they wouldn't?"

Evie shakes her head. "I won't risk having you segregated to Towers again," she says softly. "Not here."

Vivienne's eyes dart to hers sharply, but she says nothing, her lips pressed into a tight line.

"Do you have a problem with that?" Evie asks her.

"None, dear," Vivienne says, clearing her throat. "None at all."

They watch the construction in silence for a minute. The mages work side by side with the former Templars, lifting beams with magic while the soldiers hammer in supports.

A soldier leans against a stone wall and laments loudly about the heat. A young mage smirks and sends a gust of frost around him, while an older mage tenses at the sight.

There's a long moment before the soldier breaks out in laughter, shoving the mage in the shoulder. "Think you're funny, do ya?"

The two roughhouse a bit, older and wearier eyes keeping careful watch, but spirits are high and the taunts stay playful. For now.

"It helps, to be equals here. Striving side-by-side for the same cause," comes the Archivist's voice from beside Evie.

"They're treating you well, then...?"

"Ser Barris has made it clear that they are to treat us with the utmost respect, and his men follow his orders without question," the Archivist replies.

Vivienne sniffs, crossing her arms.

"You can't fault an old man for hoping, Vivvy." The Archivist gives Vivienne a gentle smile.

"It won't hold," she says in a detached tone. "You'd best have a plan in place for when it breaks."

Evie feels as if she's finally seeing a different side of Vivienne for once. An honest one. "Was it... the same when you were there?" she dares to ask.

Vivienne's gaze turns to the watchtower in the distance. "It's the same everywhere, darling. The sooner you learn that, the easier it is to adapt."

Grayson sighs and puts his hand on Evie's shoulder.

"That's enough of that, now," he says. "I wanted to speak with you, my dear-- are you doing all right? I heard things went badly with your alliance," he says softly.

Vivienne huffs, uncrossing her arms. "Oh, don't sound too broken up about it. You know as well as I what Qunari do to mages."

"We don't have to uphold their values to use their army," Evie says. "And it doesn't matter anyway. It fell through."

"Good riddance," Vivienne mutters. "They would only have stood beside you until they had readied the dagger for your back."

"I know."

Vivienne raises an eyebrow. "Oh?"

"We're trying to save the world, remember?" Evie says tiredly. "If they would have helped with that much... it was worth some risk. Afterwards, well..." she shrugs.

"A deal with a demon..." Vivienne says carefully, eyes flicking to hers, "so to speak."

The Archivist's brows furrow, his wrinkled mouth pulling into a worried frown.

" _Not_ like that," Evie insists, giving the Archivist a forced smile.

"And where _is_ that dreadful shadow of yours?" Vivienne presses, predatory.

Evie glares at her. " _Helping people_ , like he always is."

"He hasn't... spoken with you lately?"

"No. Why?"

There's a sudden commotion in the distance and Evie jolts. She hears chatter and the heavy crank of a chain as the main gates are opened. It must be the soldiers Josephine wanted her to meet-- Evie needs to be down there to greet them.

Vivienne catches the sound as well and frowns, waving a hand with a dismissive huff. "It's only a matter of time before his true nature shows itself, my dear. Until then, I leave you to your own mistakes." She excuses herself and walks quickly back to the Keep.

Evie bids quick farewell as well and rushes down the steps just in time to take her place. She greets the group of soldiers dutifully, and notes that all of them still wear their Templar armor. She sends them to Ser Barris for their sleeping arrangements and assignments and lets out a slow breath when they leave.

She thinks she sees Cole's hat on the battlements, watching, but he's blocked by the sun. When she puts her hand to her eyes to see better he's gone.

-

Dorian stares into space, sitting at the desk in his quarters. He rolls an empty wine bottle between his fingers, pivoting it around on one corner.

Stale sunlight streams through dusty windowpanes, making streaks on the stone wall behind him. He can't seem to muster the energy to clean the glass-- sometimes he truly misses having slaves. He flicks his finger, summoning a wisp. "Find me a..." What did they use to clean those, he wonders? "Find me a piece of cloth, perhaps. But nothing expensive--!" he adds.

While his mind fumbles over how to explain thread count to a wisp, he forgets the wine bottle and it rolls off his desk with a smash. He swears and scoots backward, muttering a spell that makes the glass gather itself in the corner.

He rubs a hand over his eyes, the ring on his thumb digging into the skin of his eyebrow. "On second thought, find me more alcohol."

The wisp hovers over an empty bottle in the corner, bouncing happily.

"No, one that still has something _in it_ ," Dorian groans, waving the wisp away.

"He doesn't hate you, you know," Cole says softly.

Dorian jumps, slamming his knee on his desk and unleashing a colorful string of swear words. "Blast! How did you get in here?!"

"Your door was unlocked," Cole says. "You were hoping he would--"

"Oh, we are _not_ doing this," Dorian growls and stands, herding Cole back towards the door.

"You shouldn't feel bad," Cole says emphatically. "You did what he couldn't, saved them. He's _grateful_."

Dorian huffs. "I made my choice. I'm thrilled he won't _murder_ me for it, but I am not, nor have I ever been, concerned with his opinion of me."

"Are you sure?"

"Unquestionably," Dorian says dryly. "Now run along back to the Inquisitor. If you stay chattering here much longer, I might just make her yell at me again--"

"So many rules in his head," Cole murmurs absently, "they tie things in a tangle. He thinks he needs them, doesn't know how else to be restrained."

"Yes, quite." Dorian stands with the door open, ready to close it behind him, but Cole lingers, his gaze caught on the wisp in the corner. It trembles happily, noticing Cole's attention.

Cole swallows then braces his hand on the doorway, stammering, "Dorian, wait--"

"Something else?" Dorian sighs.

"I-I don't like necromancy." Cole looks down, yanking his hand from the door and tugging his sleeve.

"Oh? Can't say I was expecting _that_." He follows Cole's gaze back to the wisp disinterestedly. "Not many do, but I'd thought you'd be the last to judge."

"The wisps cry out as they die," Cole whispers.

This catches Dorian by surprise. "They what--?" he frowns. "They're _wisps_ , Cole-- not even fully formed spirits."

"They're new, tiny-- haven't grown yet but they could be more someday," Cole says. "Full of curiosity and wonder, the world is so _big_ and they have so many questions. They just want to see, to understand, but you call them blinking into this world and you burn them." Cole looks up at him sadly. "All they know is pain."

Dorian swallows. "N-now wait just a moment-- that isn't right, Cole-- spirits don't feel pain--" Cole's face twists miserably and Dorian splutters. "That is-- they're embodiments of a single emotion, just that. Cole, you--"

"I am Compassion. But I feel other things, too, Dorian. Pain, sadness, fear. When I was lost in the depths of the Spire, when nobody could see me, I felt such loneliness I thought I would die from it. An ache that tore into my chest like a hook, pulled me backward. A feeling like falling away into nothingness."

Dorian gapes at him, unprepared for the sudden intensity of the conversation. He runs a hand through his hair, unsure of what to say. "I... had no idea. I-I'm... sorry, Cole."

"Oh, don't be," Cole says gently. "It wasn't your fault. Things are better now. There are people who remember me, people I call friends. I can talk to them if I'm scared, or confused, or lonely, and they will help me. I didn't have that for a long time, it means a lot to have it now."

"You wanted... _friends_?" Dorian asks helplessly, looking at Cole like he's seeing him in a new light. "I might just be able to relate to that sentiment," he mutters. "But Cole... why make the people of Skyhold forget you, if you can feel loneliness?"

Cole shakes his head, looking back down at the floor. "I don't matter. I want to help, but it upsets most people if they remember me. Strange boy, too pale, looks like death, disturbing. I'm not handsome like you, Dorian. I help better from the shadows."

"Vishante kaffas..." Dorian mutters, scrambling behind him for the edge of his bed and sitting down hard. He lets out a long sigh. "No wonder she was angry." He laughs harshly, scrubs a hand over his mouth. "She said you were the best of us. I don't think I truly understood it until now."

Cole frowns. "I'm not better. I was a monster before, and I--"

"Cole, you are _not_ a monster. You are--" Dorian sighs. "You are something else entirely. And if you would... like to add me to the list of those you call 'friend,' it would be my honor. You may always talk to me."

Cole tilts his head, confused. "Thank you, Dorian, but you were already my friend."

Dorian's face twists in pain but he forces a smile. "Well I'll be a better one, now. Now-- now, go. I need to think on this a while." He sighs. "You do have a way of turning things on their head, don't you?"

Cole takes a step to leave but hesitates, his eyes darting nervously to the wisp again.

"...Would you like to take it with you?" Dorian asks softly.

Cole looks to him in surprise. "Y-yes, please?"

"Go on, then," Dorian says. "Show it around Skyhold." He snaps his fingers and the wisp flies toward Cole excitedly, butting into his chest repeatedly before Cole reaches up his hands to calm it.

He cages his fingers around it, cradling it against him as it trembles excitedly. Cole's face splits into a shy smile. "Thank you, Dorian," he says, then looks up with cautious eyes. "You'll be kinder to them now, won't you...?"

"Yes, Cole," Dorian says roughly. "I will. I promise."

"Whatever happens..." Cole murmurs, watching the wisp dance brightly.

-

Evie rethinks her choices grimly as she lugs the battle axe down the steps to the tavern.

The axe weighs enough that she staggers with it, has to set it down and rest halfway down the staircase. A large blanket is wrapped around it, tied with twine to prevent accidental harm from the blade.

She leans against it as she rests, her arms limp like dead fish. She can feel upturned faces stare-- she's out where everyone can see her, no doubt wonder what she's doing. Her stomach twists uncomfortably.

How will this even help? He was exiled, disowned. And what does she do? She gives him an _axe_.

And the inscription-- _you are stronger than your demons_. It seems so empty and overdone in hindsight. He hates demons! She put demons on his axe. What was she thinking? She sighs.

She could have gone with _you're stronger than you know_ \-- but even that sounds ridiculous now. And what if he took it to mean he's so strong he'll hurt people?

None of these words mean _anything_ \-- she groans to herself, frustrated. She wants him to be okay, she just doesn't know _how_. _Cole would have done better_ \-- the thought flits through her mind like a betrayal.

She grits her teeth and lifts the axe again miserably. As she staggers down the second flight of stairs, she sees Krem and Stitches exit the tavern. Oh, Maker, she thinks. She'll have to carry it past them, too-- will they ask what it is? She'll have to explain her stupid idea to half of Skyhold by day's end, just watch--

The two Chargers laugh to each other, but there's tenseness in their shoulders. She can't help but know that they're talking about Bull.

She approaches carefully, hoping to slip past them as they walk toward the stone wall overlooking the lower courtyard. She keeps her head down and tries to be unobtrusive. As unobtrusive as one can get while lugging a battle axe.

"He _knows_ we took shifts watching him, the arse," Krem grumbles. "The least he could have done was go to bed eventually--"

Stitches says something she doesn't hear.

"That hardly means sulking on the ramparts all night like a 400 pound bat--"

"He'll work through it on his own," Stitches says as she gets closer. "Best leave him be."

Evie gets within ten feet of the tavern door and starts to think she's made it when--

"All right there, your worship?" Krem asks. Her stomach jumps.

"F-fine," she stammers, dropping the head of the axe down behind her hard enough to kick up grass. "Um, you? ...and please call me Evie."

"Glad to be breathing," Krem shrugs and pauses. "... Eaves, the eavesdropper," he says with a grin.

"Oh, no-- no more silly nicknames," she begs.

He laughs. "You got the Chief an axe? That's sweet."

"How do you--" She looks behind her. The shape of the blanket is not entirely subtle. She swallows the rest of her sentence. "Right. Yes, I did. Do you know where he is?"

"He's around," Krem says. "Been avoiding us, the big baby. Yeah, he threw it all away for us. No point pretending we don't know."

"That's not..." She sees a shadow approach from the far side of the building, a great hulking form that could only be one person. Her words die in her throat.

Krem watches her face and smirks just slightly, never turning to look behind him. "You know what I think? He is a liar, but he's been lying to them as well. And himself most of all. We got the real him-- in battle, because you can't lie in battle. Not about what you'll die for. He's always been ours-- now it's just official."

Bull grunts. "That speech meant for me, Krem de la Krem? Why not say it to my face?"

"'Cause then I'd have to look at it," Krem says, turning.

"This face? I'm gorgeous. Angels sing for me."

"They weep for you, more like. And you're full of it." Krem punches Bull's shoulder. Bull growls and grabs him around the neck and they roughhouse. Bull blocks an elbow to the gut so Krem counters by stomping on his foot. Evie can't help but laugh watching them.

Bull glances at her and pushes Krem away roughly. "What's that you're hiding, Shorty? Is that an _axe_?"

Evie bites her lip. Bull shoves forward and picks it up effortlessly, tosses it in his grip feeling the weight. Then he rips the twine off and unrolls the blanket, inspecting the blade with childlike awe.

"Do you... like it?" she asks anxiously.

"You made me an axe!" he crows. "She made me an axe, Krem! We gotta go test this out--"

"Oh no. No way, Chief. Not 'til you step inside and show that ugly face to everyone who pulled shifts making sure you didn't charge off the battlements last night."

"Aw, Krem, I wasn't going to off myself."

"The drop wouldn't kill you, you're too hard-headed. We were more concerned about structural damage. Tumble on the way down and you'd take out half a wall."

"You're making me blush!" he bellows. He sheathes the axe and picks Krem up, and then Evie, too-- each in one arm. Evie yelps and kicks her legs. Krem swears.

"Put me down, you gigantic arse!"

"I'm so happy!" Bull says, hugging them both.

He carries them both inside, dropping them just past the entrance. Krem counters with a fist to Bull's gut before wandering off to join the rest of the Chargers. They all let out a drunken, roaring cheer, raising their mugs.

Evie looks around at the patrons, feeling out of place but happy. Morale seems high, and everything seems cozy and warm in the firelight. Bull drags her to the bar and pushes a tankard into her hands. She sniffs and wrinkles her nose, sliding it away.

"Come sit with us," he goads. "You ever been drunk before, Pint-size?" He snickers at his own pun.

"I-- I don't really-- I mean--" she swallows. "I just wanted to make sure you were all right."

She stands in front of him awkwardly for a moment before he rolls his eyes and grunts, opening his arms wide. She realizes what he wants and steps in to hug him, her arms nowhere close to circling his waist. He curls his arms over her back and leans down, around her. His bulky frame surrounds her, but he hugs her gently, careful not to squeeze too tightly.

He lets out a long, slow breath. "Thanks."

A wisp flies in and slams into her untouched tankard, knocking it over. She jumps back, startled. It twirls over the spilled liquid, confused, before darting off.

She watches as it circles around the lower level, hovering around each container of ale for a few moments before darting to the next, repeatedly knocking into glasses until patrons swat it away in disgust.

"An alcoholic wisp. That has to be Dorian's," Bull says.

As Evie turns, she sees Cole framed in the doorway, lit by the late evening sun, golden and perfect and smiling at her. Evie's heart lurches so hard it makes her dizzy.

She must stand there longer than she means. "Go on," Bull says with a shove. "Go see lover boy."

She walks toward him numbly, stops in front of him with a bright smile until Cole steps forward and scoops her into a hug. It's uncharacteristically forward of him, and he squeezes her a little too tightly, but then she hears his soft voice in her ear--

"It helped," he whispers.

She steps back just enough to see him, still in his arms. His eyes are so bright, like she's never seen them, and he's staring straight at her like she's hung the moon and stars. Nothing in her life has ever mattered as much as how Cole looks at her in this moment.

She feels a spark against her hand and jumps. The wisp butts up against her mark curiously, making her skin tingle.

"Hello, there," she murmurs, lifting her hand up carefully. The wisp follows like a dog sniffing.

"This is Evie," Cole introduces proudly. He lifts one hand to poke the wisp, and slides the other all the way around her waist, resting his chin on her shoulder. She feels warm and light-headed.

The wisp dodges Cole and keeps circling her hand, going from one side of her palm to the other and back. "It's interested in the mark?"

"It sings a different song than you," Cole says. "It can be... distracting."

"Oh?" She tries to turn to look at him, but he's so close she can hardly focus.

"I learned to ignore it," he says. "I like your song best."

She turns her palm up so the wisp can rest in it. The mark crackles and she flinches back at the same time the wisp does.

"Sorry!" she says to it. "I'm sorry. Please be careful, little one." It floats back, undeterred, but she closes her fist to protect it. It butts against the back of her palm curiously, tickling her skin.

"I-I want to spend time with you," Cole says into her hair, his voice rough and nervous. "Tonight. Before it gets too late."

He still has his arm around her waist, he never thought to remove it-- he's so _close_. She laughs and turns toward him, giddy and blushing. "Yes-- I'd like that too."

He doesn't waste a moment. He links his fingers with hers and tugs her away, leading her through the courtyard and up the steps. He turns back to smile as they walk, but he says nothing and neither does she. Red streaks the sky as the sun sets and a cold chill starts to permeate the air. The wisp follows them, dancing.

-

He leads her to the chess board set up near Solas's desk. The final rays of sunlight streak down from the rafters, the ravens shifting on their perches. The soft murmur of voices echo around them from the library.

They sit across from each other, lit by candlelight, and play.

"So in the Fade, you could talk to the pieces and tell them where to go?" Evie asks. "That sounds fun."

"They would switch places whenever you stopped thinking about them, though," he says, moving his knight.

"And it would be hard to sacrifice them, I'm sure."

He hums, watching the board. His eyes dart up to hers carefully as he takes her bishop.

Her brows furrow and she bites her lip, moving in with her rook to force his retreat. "I'd hate to play against Command," she says idly. "She'd probably command you to lose then call you a cheater when you didn't."

Cole gives a warm chuckle, relaxing more into the game. "Probably," he says. His eyes dart to her again and again. He watches her face more than the board, staring _through_ her between turns. She catches his eyes with a shy smile.

They trade minor victories. Pieces are lost and turns begin to take longer.

"Spirits were... different," Cole tries to explain as he plays. "The Fade was ever changing, but spirits never changed at all... I could ask trees to move, doors to open. Whole worlds would shift around me. But there was nothing I could say to Sorrow to make it better."

Evie looks up at him, forgetting her turn for a moment. "...You've changed, since you've been here," she says hesitantly.

Cole sighs. "I came here to help. I don't care if I made myself wrong, if I don't shine as brightly as others. I understand now-- Compassion cannot stay in the Fade. To be me, I did my best to be brave, bold, to break through, but..." his voice cracks and he pauses.

"You're very brave, Cole," she says, reaching across the chessboard for his hand.

"I-I'm not. But I try," he says wistfully. "I like being here. _People_ can change. I can help."

She squeezes his hand, looking up into his eyes through his messy bangs. She opens her mouth to speak--

Cole gasps and turns suddenly. "Oh! Solas, I'm sorry. Your thoughts are soft, quiet sometimes. I didn't hear you. Do you want to play?"

"No, thank you, _ma falon_ ," Solas says, stepping from the shadows. "I am content to watch."

"Evie is about to lose her queen," says Cole, turning back to her with shy playfulness in his eyes. He squeezes her hand once more before letting go and focusing back on the board.

"I think you may be cheating again," she says with a grin. She clears her throat nervously, her eyes watching Solas.

"It's _hard_ not to listen--" Cole whines. "I like your thoughts like this. Solid, swirling, structured. It's like that when you draw, too. And when you cast magic."

"Can you tell what I'm planning?" she asks.

"Not... exactly. But when you're happy, I know to be careful."

She laughs sharply. "I shouldn't make any big plans then. To keep you guessing."

"Fast and chaos, like a lightning dance," he echoes. "You like it, it's more fun that way. Action and reaction, no waiting over what could be."

"Chess is _intended_ as a game of strategy," Solas says critically.

Evie wilts under Solas's gaze. Cole touches her hand again to draw her focus, tracing his finger over the side of her palm while she holds a piece. "You worry you'll see chess pieces on the war table," he murmurs. "You won't."

She falters, her queen still in hand, and looks up at him.

"Leaders have to make sacrifices in order to achieve their goals. It is a necessary part of battle," Solas says, stepping forward.

Evie finds her courage and shakes her head. "No," she says, still looking into Cole's eyes. "No. The moment you start sacrificing lives to win is the moment you become someone people sacrifice lives to kill."

Solas gives a lilting laugh. "It's hardly so black and white--"

"The Inquisition exists to protect the helpless, _heal the hurts_ like Cole says. I won't become that. The ones we would sacrifice are the ones we're supposed to protect the most. They're _ours_ ," she says, thinking of the Chargers. Of Ostwick, of Ser Barris and his men.

"That is disturbingly naive for someone of your position, Inquisitor."

"But that is why they follow you," Cole says, watching her steadily.

They play a while longer. Solas moves to stand behind Cole's shoulder, saying nothing but letting his presence speak all the same. Evie becomes flustered, nervous, the thought of losing pieces having soured in her mind. She makes obvious mistakes and blushes in shame, retreats more often than not.

She rallies herself eventually, determined to learn to think under pressure, and manages to put Cole on the defensive for a few minutes. He still wins in the end, though, and gives her a shy smile while Solas squeezes his shoulder.

"Well done, Cole," Solas preens.

"Congratulations," Evie says, standing to shake Cole's hand. He threads his fingers lightly into hers, tugging gently a moment before they both let go. "I-I'd better get some supper before the food's gone--" she says.

"Evie, wait--" She turns and Cole calls the wisp down from where it wandered in the rafters. It drifts down slowly, bumping into him with affection. "It will be gone soon," he says softly.

"Gone?" she asks, startled.

Cole smiles. "It will return home to the Fade. The magic holding it here wears thin."

He holds his hand out and the wisp hovers over it, spins around it slowly.

"It's all right," Cole assures, "it will return to its friends with many wondrous stories to tell." He turns to her. "Could you... look after it for me?"

"Of course," she promises and holds out her hand. It bypasses her palm entirely and knocks into her chest with a sudden force, buzzing around her drowsily as she laughs.

Cole moves forward while she's distracted and kisses her cheek, lingering for a long moment. Her breath catches, and Solas clears his throat harshly.

"I-I'll see you later?" she stammers as he pulls away.

"Maybe," he answers, and she leaves.

 

After she's gone, Solas inspects the board. "She could have beaten you when your king was in the corner, had she traded her knight."

"You were making her nervous," Cole defends.

"I was merely watching."

"I know." Cole pauses. "Thank you for trying to know her, Solas."

"For your sake, _ma falon_. I know you are... quite fond."

"I love her," Cole says simply. "She is courageous and kind. But... those are things that I like, not things that you like."

Solas looks over at him. "Oh...?"

"You like the old, the other. The ones outside. You don't like Evie."

Solas shifts. "She has... surprised me on occasion."

"She doesn't seem real to you. Why is that?"

Solas sighs. "Leave that be, Cole."

"I just want to understand."

"There is much you still yet don't, Cole. And much I fear you never should."

"Maybe. But we have to try, to keep trying. Always." He picks up one of her knights and turns it in his hand before setting it down on its side.

He wanders away from Solas, looking up to the top of the tower-- shrouded in shadow, souls of birds blending with the darkness. It was night. It was time.

He disappears with a sigh.

-

As Cole walks down the dark hallway, he pulls the Fade over him like a blanket, stifling and heavy. It doesn't fit quite like it used to, but he can't be real. Not tonight.

No one turns as he passes. He's barely even a whisper in their minds.

He stops in front of the heavy door and tests the lock. He can hear them inside-- three of them. Scarred minds, blood singing with lyrium-- Templars, restless and waiting.

He lets his hand drift over the wood and turns his head, considering. He moves to the next door over, an empty room, its occupants away. He can use the windows. They aren't looking behind them.

As he's crouched on the ledge, lifting the pane of glass, things start to go badly. The one closest hears the creak and calls out. Before he can push their minds away again, the one holding a chant in his mind raises his hand and calls out--

The Litany cuts through Cole like an icy wind, staggering him. He almost falls. He looks up just in time to see a sword coming down, dives forward and rolls. Glass shatters behind him.

He stands and the second Templar is ready, arm already halfway through a swing. Cole spine bows backward, but the broad arc still cuts him across the chest.

He lets out a high noise of pain but catches his footing behind himself, moves forward and _steps_ through the two approaching Templars, leaving their swords swinging through a cloud. He crouches on top of a bookcase, shuddering as blood seeps out, turning his clothing crimson in a broad, blooming stain--

-

Evie babysits the wisp. She isn't sure where to take it. What do wisps like to do?

It's getting slower, as if it's sleepy. She supposes that isn't far off. It will return to the Fade soon, after all, and sleep is what takes you there.

She wants to give it fun memories to share, but how? She certainly can't take it back to the tavern, to the noise and chaos-- not when it's already so tired. She would exhaust the poor thing.

She treks up to her rooms, the wisp trailing along behind her. It lilts through the air, falling behind and then catching up again and again.

When they reach her quarters, the wisp hovers up to the highest rafters in in wonder, touching the ceiling before falling back down beside her. She smiles and opens the doors to the side balcony.

"It's a beautiful view," she says, but hesitates, "but... can you see it?" Could wisps see? she suddenly wonders. They don't have eyes. She never gave it any thought before.

It sways close to the balcony railing and then hurries back, cowering away from the vast emptiness. A chill wind ruffles through them both and the wisp ducks into her hair, making it stand on end.

"I'm sorry," she murmurs, shutting the doors and pulling it inside with her. She cradles it against her neck. "I didn't mean to frighten you. I suppose you see with other senses then, don't you?"

What other things were there to sense in Skyhold at this hour? What stories could it tell its friends?

Oh--

"Here, follow me little one," she calls.

She climbs into bed and curls up beneath warm blankets, the wisp following curiously. Then she picks up _Hard in Hightown_.

"I only just started reading this, but it's exciting--" she begins.

She explains who the characters are in the simplest of terms, as if she were talking to a child. Then she starts to read aloud.

The wisp hovers beside her, giving her light. When she gets to a suspenseful part she has to stop-- it bobs back and forth so excitedly she can't read the page.

"Calm down," she laughs. She reaches up and curls her hand around the edge of it, static tingling under her palm.

When it finally stills, she continues, turning the page--

-

Varric pauses as he walks through the keep, squinting into the shadows. There's a scrape against the stone floor-- a figure moving, feet dragging. The part of him that remembers ghost stories and skittering claws in the darkness feels a wave of panic. Something _wrong_ stands before him.

Then he sees a hat.

"Kid, is that you?" he calls roughly.

The shadow pauses, frozen and haggard-looking. Something isn't right.

"Hello, Varric," comes Cole's voice, perfectly calm.

Varric steps closer and the torchlight from the far end of the hallway catches on something that reflects. Something liquid. Something dark.

"Kid... I need you to come here," Varric says carefully.

"I'm sorry, Varric. I can't talk right now." Cole tilts his head away, the silhouette of his hat moving slowly to the side. He's listening. Then between one blink and the next, he's gone.

Varric rushes to where he was and finds blood on the stone floor. A trail leading backward. He swallows bile and unholsters Bianca.

-

The light dims as Evie reads, fading out only to rise with a sudden urgency like a sleeper jolting themselves awake, only to fade even further the next time.

Finally, between one page and the next, the light is doused completely. Evie stops, silent. She is suddenly, completely alone. She stares into the darkness. The silence of the room rings in her ears now that her reading doesn't fill it. She hears nothing-- no noise from the courtyard, no servants in distant hallways. Not even a wind outside. The world is still and frozen.

She realizes she's still holding the book aloft and closes it belatedly. She sets it aside and pulls the blankets around her mechanically. It's late. There's a lot she needs to do tomorrow.

She _misses_ Cole, for one painful moment. Then she pushes the thought away. Josephine was right-- he has no sense of time. He helps wherever he is needed, no matter the hour. He'll turn up eventually, but there was no sense expecting him to stick to a schedule.

As she closes her eyes and tries to relax, she hopes desperately that Cole hasn't dozed off somewhere strange. She doesn't like the thought of him going into the Fade alone. She knows it upsets him.

She sighs, feeling cold and alone in the dark.

-

Cole staggers down a dark hallway. He's circled back, stayed hidden-- he can't hide right now, and he hates it. His own shadows torn away, he has to make do with paler ones. He feels exposed, but the Litany scraped him raw. He can't hold the edges of the Fade for more than a few moments before he feels bloody and throbbing and _real_.

But it's all right. No one followed him. No one heard him.

And only one person is still looking.

She's standing in the shadows, too, watching where he was before from a distance, a cloth clenched in her fist.

He reaches his hand out blindly, touching his fingers to the edge of her palm--

Vivienne leaps back, startled.

"D-did you get my book, demon?" she demands, wrapping arrogance around herself in place of composure.

"There wasn't a book," Cole mumbles, his voice rough. "The book was only a reason. You should throw that out."

Vivienne looks between him and the distant doorway. "They... didn't see you?" she asks.

"The Litany won't let me hide, but it doesn't stop how I move. I stayed fast, far ahead-- frightened them."

" _Only_ frightened? They're still alive? They... let you escape?"

"Evie is teaching me to be clever. Sometimes you let them think the wrong thing to make things right." Cole fidgets tiredly, raising a shaking hand up to his face and tugging the brim of his hat down. "Their minds saw me as vengeance, called by old cruelties, crying out for those they had wronged. They think they have to leave to put things right, that I will be watching." He chuckles softly. "Evie would be proud."

Vivienne stares at him, her face a blank mask but her shoulders tense.

Cole shifts with a wince and looks to her again, _through_ her, and frowns. "Please, Vivienne-- they won't ever be callous and cruel like they were when you were young. They changed. Their regrets burn holes through them. They will confess and leave. You must get rid of it. You've held onto it for too long already."

Vivienne sneers. "Get rid of what, exactly, demon? My fear, my anger, my shame? Is this another of your riddles?"

"No, the red shard in your palm." He starts to reach out again, but pulls back. "It burns like your hatred when you heard they were asking _you_ for shelter. You should throw it out. That tiny bit twists your thoughts already, tears at the edges."

Vivienne's jaw trembles as she takes a breath. "You-- you can tell..."

"You needed a distraction to sneak it in. You told them I was coming. Two paths, but either way the one left standing is made to look a monster. All roads lead to you winning."

"And yet _you went in_?" she demands.

"Yes."

"Then you _are_ a fool. You could have gone to the Inquisitor-- been rid of me..."

"I wanted to help."

She shakes her head and snarls. "Is that all you know how to say? You are not _foolish_ , you are utterly beyond reason."

He places his hand gently on her arm. "I know how it feels to go hungry. You didn't deserve it. Our burdens break us different ways. It was wrong, what they did to you. You deserve to feel safe."

Vivienne falters and stares at him with wide eyes, all the muscles in her face tense. She blinks rapidly and stands frozen, not even willing to shake off his hand.

"They will leave, mistakes come to light," Cole continues softly. "They won't hurt you here. _Please_ get rid of it, Vivienne." He looks at her sadly. "You're hurting yourself."

Her composure slips away like a falling cloth and she looks down, lost. She opens her palm to reveal a shard of red lyrium. It pulses for a moment as she stares. She shatters it with her magic, tips her hand and lets the dust fall to the floor.

"Thank you," Cole says with pure sincerity.

Vivienne blinks, her eyes darting up to his blankly. Her hand shakes.

"You should rest," Cole urges. "You are tired. You haven't slept since you heard they were coming."

"I..."

"It's all right," Cole soothes. "It's all right."

She lets out a shaky breath and nods, lets him lead her to her rooms.

-

Evie is awoken by a hiss of pain, a slosh of water.

She rubs her eyes and sits up. "Cole?" she calls. The sound of splashing in the other room quiets, as if he's fallen still. She gets up to investigate, shivering outside the safety of her warm blankets.

"I-I'm fine--" he answers through the door.

"What are you doing? It's the middle of the night." She leans her head against the door, yawning. Then her eyes fall on his tunic on the ground, covered in blood. Her pulse thrums. "Cole, are you hurt?"

He stays silent.

She waits at the door as long as she is able, but her fear is too much for her and she barges in.

He's standing over the washbasin, naked from the waist up. He turns toward her awkwardly, eyes fixed on the floor, hair falling over his face. For being so tall and broad shouldered, he hunches in on himself and seems as small as a mouse. A trick of the mind, like the space shrinks around him.

A bright red gash cuts across his torso, two inches below his collarbone.

Cole squirms. "I-It's all right. I--"

"You're hurt," she says numbly. "How did you get hurt?"

Drops of blood slide down while he stands frozen, diluted a lighter red from the water. "You would... be angry, I think. You would say things you can't take back."

She walks toward him and reaches for the wet rag blindly, wrings it and dabs water across the wound. Her hands shake painfully. Excess water runs down her forearms and into her sleeves. Cole doesn't flinch away from her-- he just stands and watches her sadly, looking _through_ her with tired eyes.

"I don't care who you help--" she chokes out, her voice scratchy. "If I don't like them it's probably my fault. You have a big heart, you're better than me--"

"Evie, no--"

"--but _I will always help you_ ," she rasps. "I will _always_ have your back. I don't need to know why. You can't leave me behind and--" her voice cracks. She presses her lips together firmly, silencing herself.

Her hand with the rag slows and his form blurs in front of her-- the dark red line is all she sees. She sniffs, wiping the back of her arm across her eyes. Tentatively, Cole reaches up to cover her other hand with his. He touches her gently, cautiously, as if he's afraid to spook her.

She lets out a shaky breath and stills for a moment, then shakes her head. She grabs his hand and drags him into the main room, pushing him to sit on the bed.

He complies silently, muscles not providing the slightest ounce of resistance. He just sits and waits, following her with pale, doleful eyes.

She sits across from him, staring at his injury and then scrubbing the heels of her hands over her face roughly, shaking her head to concentrate. Then she scoots forward, places her palms over the gash and closes her eyes. She never had a talent for healing, but she tries anyway-- pours her magic into it, _pleads_ with her power. She focuses on her love, her worry, and pushes with everything she has.

Excess power spills out from her hands, winding around them, lighting the room with ribbons of blue and green. There's a glow, a hum, a charge in the air around them... but the magic won't stick.

Cole grabs her wrist gently. "Evie--"

She shakes her head and squares her jaw, focuses harder. Wasted energy spills out, dissipating and stirring a wind in the air.

"Evie, you will _exhaust_ yourself. Pained and empty, I don't want that..."

" _No_ ," she says, and it comes out like a bark. She tries again, tears in her eyes, and he drops her wrist, watching her sadly.

She tries, again and again and again, the magic illuminating Cole's face with a pale light each time. She bites her lip and struggles, refusing to look him in the eye, but refusing to give up all the same.

She keeps going until her hands shake with exhaustion, until there is nothing left within her to summon. Then she pulls back and looks at the bleeding wound sadly.

"I think it's better," Cole tries, touching the edge gently. "Not as deep."

She looks up at him and her face twists. She swallows, stifling a whimper, and clenches her fists.

"Stay there," she says roughly. She stands, wavering light-headed for a moment.

"Evie--" he reaches up, but she pulls away and shakes her head. She throws her coat over her shoulders and rushes down the steps.

He sits on the bed and closes his eyes with a sigh. He listens to her as she moves further away. She's hurting, an ache in her temples. Exhausted. He winces in sympathy.

She's still so _bright_ to him. A glow in his mind, warm and beautiful. He wants to bask in her. Wants her close. Soft and safe.

He tilts his head, following her with his mind. He waits, and listens. Picks at a loose thread on the sheets. Each footstep on the hard stone makes her skull pound as she rushes down the stairs. She reaches the main hall and pauses, turns, lost. Then an idea.

He sees the destination in her mind and... smiles sadly. Turns his head to follow her. She has no magic right now. He doesn't want her to get too far away-- he worries. But it's not much further, she'll be back soon. He could be with her-- the balcony, the roof, the ground, _three steps_ \-- in moments.

When she returns, he looks up at her through messy bangs and says nothing.

She sits on the bed, mirroring him, their knees touching, and opens the jar of poultice from Stitches. Gently, she slathers it over the wound, her thoughts a swirling tumble, but her fingers slow and sure. He closes his eyes, leaning toward her as she works. She lays cloth strips over the wound, wiping up the edges and smoothing her palms across the clean linen. When her hands finally still at her sides, that's when he moves.

He reaches for her, catches her elbow and tugs her toward him. He kisses her on the forehead, on the cheek, and on the tears gathered in the corner of her eye. Then he pulls her back with him toward the pillows. She follows, motionless as he pulls the blankets around her.

"Rest now, Evie," he murmurs as he lays beside her, curling close.

Sniffling, she wipes her eyes, then looks down at her hands, surprised and unaware of her tears. She tucks her head under his chin, laying beside him. Her eyes stay on his wound, stroking her fingers absently over the skin beside the bandage.

"Hush," he soothes. "I am here. I am whole." He repeats fragments of this again, over and over, until her eyes start to fall shut and her breaths become slow and even against his neck.

Only then does Cole shut his eyes as well, letting out a tired sigh and placing his hand over hers where it has come to rest over his heart.

-

Vivienne is reading on her balcony when he approaches, a candle flickering beside her. She couldn't sleep, not yet, muscles still too tense, mind racing. She thought a book would calm her. A foolish idea.

"We need to talk," Varric says.

Vivienne raises an eyebrow without looking up from the pages. "He told you, then."

"He _didn't_ tell me. Guards say three Templars left Skyhold tonight muttering about demons-- and the kid won't talk to me." Varric lets out a sharp laugh, holding out his hands. "--which is ridiculous, because let me tell you-- if the kid is anything, he's painfully honest. Never shuts up, even!"

"I fail to see how this is connected," Vivienne says, closing her book and affecting a bored mask.

"Then I remembered," Varric continues, leaning casually against the high back of her chair, "that those Templars were from Montsimmard. Weren't _you_ from Montsimmard?"

"Not since--"

Varric slaps an open palm into the back of her chair by her head. Vivienne jolts, startled. "I wasn't _asking_. And the kid was hiding a sword wound on his collar." He stares at her silently, his face inches from hers.

Then, suddenly, he steps back and claps his hands together. "So! It seems we need to talk, Iron Lady. About you using the kid like a chess piece in your little games."

"I have no idea what you're talking about." Vivienne raises an eyebrow, trying her best to not acknowledge the way her voice falters ever-so-slightly. "And even if I did, I certainly have no control over what the _demon_ does in his--"

"Stay the hell away from him." Varric snarls. "How _dare_ you abuse his desire to help."

He takes a slow step closer, the firelight playing over his dark eyes, his frown just barely kept from a sneer, and Vivienne leans back in her chair, slightly, tightens her hands around her book.

"You've gotten good at playing that Orlesian game of yours," Varric says. "You stay in the good graces of a lot of bad people, line all the right pockets so you know when danger is headed your way. You think you're clever enough to always be two steps ahead. Know this, Iron Lady-- I have pull in circles you've never even heard of, and when I make _my_ move? _You will not see me coming_."

Vivienne lets out a slow breath, and Varric fixes the sleeve of his coat.

"Leave the kid out of your games. I won't tell you twice," he says, and walks away.

 

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry for the wait. If it's any consolation, this chapter was very, very long (12k!) so it's sort of like getting multiple chapters at once. I was trying to learn to write gradually building tension, so it needed to be all in one go.
> 
> Hope it turned out okay. And hope you've all been well since my last post <3


	12. Chapter 12

"How is she?" Josephine asks as she sets papers in front of Evie to sign.

"Exactly as you would expect," Leliana replies from the doorway, arms crossed. "Cullen was training with her all morning. I've seen _dragons_ with less ferocity."

"She is too hard on herself," Josephine sighs. "It's a shame, truly, that there are no Seekers left to join us, but... I was never optimistic."

Leliana looks away with a sad smirk. "No," she admits, "neither was I."

"Is there anything we can do to help...?" Evie asks softly.

"Besides building more training dummies?" Leliana scoffs. "Cassandra only ever seems happy about battles, Andraste, and those books Varric writes."

Cole had mentioned once that Cassandra loved books, too. _Perhaps_... Evie drums her fingers as Josephine shifts papers around.

"I think that's everything I need for now, dear," Josephine says. "Thank you. You may go."

As Evie dashes away to the entrance hall, she hears Varric's laughter. Her stomach clenches.

She could-- no. It would be silly. But why not? It was worth a try, wasn't it? What did she have to lose?

"Varric!" she calls.

"Snowflake," he answers.

"I was wondering... could I have a copy of your most recent book?" She tries her best to phrase it innocently.

"Hard in Hightown? Or Swords and Shields?"

"Er..."

He takes her hesitation as embarrassment and laughs. "Ha! Swords and Shields it is, then. Didn't quite peg you for the type. Don't worry, I won't tell."

Evie isn't sure what 'type' he means. _His other books have a type?_ she thinks frantically. They're not like Hard in Hightown? And what does he mean by, _he won't tell_ \--

"I am curious, though..." Varric continues with a glint in his eyes. "Why are you and the kid both so interested in steamy romance all of the sudden? Looking for ideas?"

_Oh Maker, bury her now_. "I-it isn't like that! I like the... characters-- wait, Cole?"

" _Which_ characters?" Varric asks suspiciously.

"The... main ones?"

"Names, Snowflake?"

Evie's opens her mouth and stares at him blankly. _Crap_.

-

"I'm sorry that your friends died, Cassandra."

Cassandra has her sword pointed at Cole's throat before he finishes his sentence, but he doesn't flinch.

"Cole," she growls, "you must learn not to sneak up on people like that!"

"Sorry," he says, ducking gracefully around her blade. He walks past her to see the training dummy. Torn straw sticks out at pitiful angles. The head is almost severed.

"Don't tell me I am the most lost soul in all of Skyhold," she grumbles, sheathing her sword.

"You're my friend and you're sad. You worry you've lost your way." He touches the edges of straw, sharp and prickly.

"I hardly wished to share those thoughts with anyone," she says, but her tone is more tired than accusatory.

"I see a lot, always. I see truth, like you seek." He turns to her. "I want to help."

She weighs his offer, then sighs and leads him over to a large stump, sitting on one edge. She tugs at her gauntlet for a moment, frustrated, before taking it off and tossing it in the grass.

"I'm not sure that I can call myself a Seeker any longer, Cole."

"You're still who you were yesterday," he says, sitting beside her and fidgeting with his sleeve. "Strong and steady, never still. You seek certainty but are content to never catch it. Others would create it, a false confidence to cling to that corrupts. But not you, Cassandra. Your heart is clear."

"I appreciate that, Cole." Cassandra leans forward on her elbows, folding her hands together. "I grieved for my Order long ago. I've made peace with what happened. I just... _cannot_ get Lucius's words out of my mind. The things they did, the things they _knew_..."

"Tranquility," Cole echoes.

She turns to him sharply. "Cole--"

"Rhys and I met Pharamond." Cole draws his legs up, curls his arms around them.

"When?"

"Before," Cole answers. "It was hard on him, after he was healed. He asked me to kill him."

"Did you?"

"No. I'm better now. But someone else did."

Cassandra grimaces, putting her head in her hands. "They knew all along..."

"They did. But you didn't."

"Perhaps I should have. I'm meant to find the truth, am I not?" She laughs darkly.

"No. No, no, _no_... you're thinking in circles now. It isn't helping--"

Cole stands, agitated, and tugs a hand through his hair.

"You don't want to think about it, but you can't stop. I brought you this," he says and pulls out a book that was pressed tight against the back of his tunic. It's unmarked with a black cover.

"What is it?" Cassandra eyes him as she takes it. She's had her fill of secret documents.

"It's Swords and Shields..."

Cassandra gasps and looks at him dumbfounded.

"...sort of."

She opens it quickly and finds rough words scrawled in messy writing, the print large like a child's. "Is this... supposed to be some sort of joke?"

"I-I tried to write it down as Varric was picturing it, but he thinks too fast and I write the words too slowly--"

As she flips through the pages, the words say things like, 'very angry' and 'bad things,' followed by 'happy again,' and for some reason, 'marry gold.'

"I... forgot parts. And some of it is backwards. I can't make it real like he does. The words wait on the page, still and heavy, unsure of how to move." Cole sits beside her and turns to a later portion of the book. "I tried to draw pictures instead... b-but even Sera's are better..."

Cassandra's eyes are wide as she turns each page. "What's this one here?"

"The guardsman," Cole says, craning his neck to see over her shoulder.

"He's alive?!"

"Yes!" Cole nods excitedly.

"...Do mine ears deceive me?" Varric's voice carries across the courtyard. "Or is the kid spoiling my story?"

Cassandra and Cole look up, startled.

"I tried to stop him!" Evie runs up behind Varric. "He figured it out--"

"Figured _what_ out?" Cassandra stands quickly. She shoves the book into Cole's lap without looking and distances herself.

Cole catches it, fumbling. Then he tilts his head toward Varric just slightly, as if listening.

"I asked for an extra copy of his book for--for _me_ ," Evie explains, "but he started quizzing me and I didn't know the story and I don't know how he guessed--"

"Do I have any secrets left, I wonder?" Cassandra mutters, glancing sidelong at Cole. Cole shrugs and looks at the ground, tugging at his glove.

"Oh-ho, I was _glad_ to learn this one, Seeker," Varric winks. "Though I do question your taste-- Swords and Shields? Really?"

Cassandra splutters and glares, and Varric grins with feral glee, keeping hands behind his back.

Varric opens his mouth to taunt her more, but Cole whines--" _Show_ her, Varric!"

"You're ruining the surprise, kid," Varric grumbles, but pulls a book from behind his back.

"No--!" Cassandra gasps, recognizing the cover design instantly. She dives for it and flips through the pages, dreading another disappointment. When she sees that the book is authentic, she looks to Varric in shock, then turns away and flips back to the beginning.

Cole flops his legs cross-legged on the stump, folding his hands in his lap.

"Will you read it, Varric...? With the voices? I'd like that."

"I'm not sure this one's appropriate, kid."

"Please?" Cole's hat gains a hopeful tilt. "I like your stories. They make people _happy_."

Varric's eyes dart to Cassandra for a moment, and Cole gives him an eager, not-so-subtle nod.

"Argh, kid..." Varric grumbles. "All right, fine, I'll tell a story. But not this one, something else. Scoot over."

Cole jumps up immediately, reaching for Evie and tugging her over to sit with him in the grass.

Cassandra scoffs and folds her arms. She remains standing, though she keeps Varric's book clutched close to her chest.

Without preamble, Varric launches into a story. It's a dramatic tale that takes place in a corrupt town full of dark alleys and darker hearts. A terrible plot has been put into motion, and their hero is out of her depth and running out of time--

"--this is Hard in Hightown," Cassandra says.

"No, it isn't. Don't interrupt."

"It's Hard in Hightown with different characters."

Varric gives her a sour look. "This is how the story was _supposed_ to be before my editor changed it. Now do you want me to tell it or not?"

Cassandra huffs then sits down in the grass like a child, glaring back at Varric stubbornly.

Varric falters a moment, surprised, but he quickly smothers a grin and jumps back into the story.

As Varric speaks, Cole searches his belt pocket for charcoal and presses his book into Evie's hands, turning to a blank page. She looks at him curiously, but he just leans against her and rests his chin on her shoulder, watching.

"All right," she murmurs, and starts sketching.

Partway through the story, Bull and the Chargers join the audience. They sit and criticize the spies and the fighting until Varric snaps, "Hey, did I ask for help? This is my story. Shut up and let me do the talking."

As Evie sketches, Cole whispers things to her, "No, his hair is longer." "Make his chin sharper." "No, this one looks more like Commander Cullen." When he laughs softly in her ear, she shivers.

After a few more glib comments from Bull, Varric gets a vengeful glint in his eyes and introduces an enormous mercenary character with an eyepatch and no respect for authority.

Krem elbows Bull. "Sound like someone, Chief?"

Evie looks to Cole. "Is it...?"

"Yes," he whispers back, smiling.

The mercenary's actions become more and more comically inept, scaling in proportion with Bull's commentary. Bull takes it in stride, the corner of his eye crinkling at the game. When the mercenary lets the villain slip past while he's too busy stuffing his _rippling girth_ with pastries, Bull lets out a hearty chuckle. Then he scoots up to sit beside Evie and whispers, "That reminds me, Shorty-- got any more of those candies?"

Evie reaches into her pocket and pulls out a handful, passing them around to the Chargers who want them.

Cassandra waves Bull off when he offers her one, her back rigidly straight but her attention undivided. At one point she shushes Krem, and immediately seems more embarrassed by it than he is.

Even Hawke joins the crowd at one point, standing in the back and shouting out oddly-specific insults about the villain, making Varric laugh.

Evie is struck, suddenly, by the happiness, the energy, and the safety of everything around them. It feels like a bubble, far away from any wars or tragedies. It feels like everything will be all right, and it's all because of Cole. It's _always_ because of Cole.

When the story ends, Bull groans with disappointment. "Oh come on, that's _it_?" Krem elbows him and applauds loudly, letting out a whoop, with all the others joining in.

"Thank you, thank you." Varric bows. As the crowd thins, his eyes stay fixed on Cassandra. "Gotta say, Seeker, I enjoy this type of... _storytelling_ much more."

Cassandra sneers and opens her mouth to say something sharp, but Cole interrupts--

"He doesn't mean it like _that_ \--"

"What?" Varric steps back and turns between Cole and Cassandra, confused. "No, I mean-- Seeker, I like seeing a side of you that isn't... angry and threatening, that's all."

Cassandra clenches her jaw. "You're... infuriating, but I would never wish you to think I would harm you unjustly. I... am not _like_ that," she says, a twinge of hurt in her voice.

"Yeah, I get it now. Just a bit of hair pulling." Varric winks.

Cassandra stammers. "W-what?"

"You _like_ me, Seeker," he taunts.

"I cannot stand you!" she seethes. "You're impossible!"

Evie leans close to Cole and whispers. "What do you see here?"

He looks back at her with a raised eyebrow. "You see it, too. They are _not_ subtle."

"Well! That was a party," Varric crows, playfully skirting away from Cassandra before she erupts. "You were even handing out snacks, Snowflake! Is this a new publicity strategy I should be aware of? Herald of Andraste, _Purveyor of Sweets and Justice_."

"The Knight-Commander liked them," Cole says, reaching for a stray candy in the grass.

"Who?" Cassandra asks. Evie stiffens.

"A small piece of home in a dark tower. He didn't like guarding, but he liked his sword. He sent for bags of them, left careless in the back room. Too many to miss a few. Small, like secrets. Easily kept. Didn't spoil like a roll of bread. Hoarded and hidden for the bad days."

Evie clenches her jaw and looks away. That makes it sound--

Maybe if she says nothing they'll let it slide as another of Cole's eccentricities. She feels Varric's sharp eyes on her, though.

"What's he saying, Snowflake?" Varric asks, his voice much darker.

Evie hesitates.

Cole answers for her. "She doesn't _want_ them, just wants them close," he says. "They taste like survival."

"Does he mean... Inquisitor-- _Evie_ \--" Cassandra says.

"It's nothing," Evie says roughly. "Just a silly habit." She likes to have candy in her pockets-- why should that matter? She squirms and adds desperately, "They never _starved_ us-- just a missed meal sometimes. Three days at most. It was nothing like-- nothing like what happened to Cole."

To have a crutch like this over something so small feels foolish. It was _nothing_ , in the long run.

Cole leans on her, his shoulder against hers, his weight awkward and heavy and impossible to ignore.

"It's the same, but different," he says. "Once against always. The fear follows either way, the aches echo in our minds long after they're gone." He kisses her temple. "It doesn't make you _less_."

Cassandra looks like she wants to reach out. She steps closer, speaking softly. "Evie... It's nothing to be ashamed of. Hoarding food can be a normal response to--"

" ** _Stop_** \--!" Evie snaps.

Cassandra freezes.

"It doesn't matter. Leave it alone," Evie mutters, looking away. Her fingers rip at a patch of grass absently. Everything feels so surreal, she can't believe they're talking about this.

Cole leans against her insistently, pressing his cheek to her shoulder. She bears his weight willingly, feeling calmed by his presence, though not comforted.

Cassandra sighs. "This world is in dire need of change."

"Couldn't agree more, Seeker," Varric says beside her.

There's the sound of someone clearing their throat. Cullen stands at the edge of the courtyard, looking anxious.

Evie's heart jumps. _Maker_ , she never thought she'd be so relieved by Cullen intruding.

"There's to be a war in a few minutes," Cullen calls. "I-I mean a war council. A council meeting." He runs his hand through his hair and sighs. "The messengers have been unable to find you two. Cassandra and Ev-- _the Inquisitor_ , that is. Not... not Cole. Er," he flounders. "...Pardon the interruption."

Varric raises an eyebrow at Cullen's nervousness and the _last_ thing Evie needs is him delving into that awkward tale as well--

She stands quickly, pulling away from Cole. "We'd better be going, Cassandra," she urges, brushing grass off her pants.

"Of course," Cassandra murmurs, and there's something gentle and protective in her tone that Evie wants to rail against.

"Whoa, hold on there, Snowflake..." Varric steps toward her, his hand raised soothingly. Evie recoils. There's a pause, then Varric reaches for Cole's book in her peripheral vision. "Can I see?"

She forgot she was holding it. She hands it to him jerkily, her fingers still holding the page with her sketches.

Varric flips it open and runs his hand over the drawings. " _Wow_ , that's exactly how I pictured them!"

"...Cole helped," Evie mumbles.

"Then you two make a great illustration team," Varric smiles. "Can I send this to my editor? Just think, Snowflake, if I publish this you'll be _famous_!" He wags his eyebrows at her.

"Ha. You're hilarious, Varric." She rolls her eyes.

She looks back at Cole for the first time. She isn't sure what she's expecting. Pity? Sadness? Sympathy? But he's just smiling up at her, warm and patient.

She swallows a lump in her throat and rips out the page, handing it to Varric.

"Just don't say it who it was."

"I make no promises," he says as she leaves.

 

Afterwards, Cole watches Varric. "You helped them _both_ ," he says in wonder.

"Psshh. No, kid," Varric says, scrubbing a hand over his face. "Any helping? That was all you. And don't think I missed how you orchestrated that. You're sneakier than we give you credit for. I wonder what else you've got up your sleeve?"

Cole's eyes widen. He shakes his sleeve and lets a candy drop into his palm, holding it out.

Varric gives a startled laugh. "Why would you-- know what? Nevermind."

"To Vivienne, they taste like power."

"They--wait, you're giving it to _her_?" Varric's face darkens. "She could stand to taste _less_ power, if you ask me. It's not your job to help her, Cole."

Cole stands up with a groan. "I'm _fine_ , Varric..."

Varric spins Cole to face him, deadly serious. " _No_ , kid, you aren't. No matter how much you want to help her, you can't risk yourself like that. It's _too much_."

"She just needed--"

"What would Snowflake do if she lost you?" Varric cuts in.

Cole is silent. His eyes fall on the candy.

"I will be _cautious_ ," he concedes reluctantly. "No one... no one has ever worried for me the way Evie did. She _hurt_ to see me hurt."

"And she's not the only one, kid. _Do you hear me_?"

Cole looks at him in surprise, then looks down at his hands again. "Oh," he breathes out. His mouth works for a moment, unsure of what to say. "I...-- _Thank you_."

"Yeah, well." Varric shrugs it off, running his hand up and down Cole's arm with rough affection, ending on a pat. "So how are things with you and Snowflake, anyway...?" he asks, shifting the topic.

Cole smiles. "I feel like I'm in a _story_."

"Oh, yeah?" Varric laughs. "What kind of story?"

"N-not like what you write. Heart in your throat, hanging from a cliff-- You don't think stories should ever end. But like what Cassandra reads."

Varric's eyebrows furrow and he opens his mouth to object, but then his face relaxes in understanding. "...Kid, do you mean 'happily ever after'?"

Cole's lips quirk up. He looks away shyly. "She _loves_ me, Varric. She sees who I am and she _loves me_. I-It frightened me at first, but now... I think it means I made it to the best part."

"Oh, _kid_..." Varric squeezes Cole's arm and gives him a sad smile. "I think you'll find love's a bit more complicated than that."

-

Cullen avoids Evie's eyes for the entire meeting. She hasn't seen him since the morning after Cole was hurt, and seeing him now... she can't help but be short with him, her embarrassment and anger rushing back.

Leliana and Josephine both notice, of course they do. They communicate over Evie's head with raised eyebrows and mouthed words. They don't seem too terribly surprised. Perhaps it was inevitable.

_"He did it wrong, didn't see,"_ Cole had told her, after. _"He meant well. There's... more that he wants you to know."_ She grits her teeth.

He _threatened_ Cole, and that still upsets her. Standing beside him just brings it all back. How dare he.

She moves past him roughly to place a marker on the table and he scrambles out of her way. _Good_ , she thinks darkly. She was already on edge before coming to this meeting. Now-- she doesn't want to think about how, even for a moment, he made her embarrassed-- _ashamed_ \-- of Cole.

 

The morning after she found Cole hurt, there had been knocking. She remembers that. But it sounded distant, as if underwater.

Usually she was alert, she'd wake to any sound outside her door, but there was exhaustion running through her veins, and Cole... Cole was beside her in her dreams, tugging her hand and smiling with soft, breathy laughter.

She was pulled from the Fade despite herself, and at first registered only the pale expanse of Cole's naked chest. She stared down as his lean muscles stretched and shifted. Even _remembering_ makes her blush.

"Mmm..." Cole groaned, "I liked that place. We should go back." He yawned, raising his arms above his head, and she jumped, looking away and fixing her eyes on the bedsheet.

"It's not that easy..." she had said.

"It is. I remember the way."

And that was when she saw Cullen, standing by the stairs to her room.

"I-In your bed-- in your _mind_?" Cullen had choked out, staggering back and knocking into a table. His hand flew to his sword and had it half-drawn before he reconsidered, steeled himself, and started chanting under his breath.

Cole shuddered beneath her and let out a frustrated groan into the pillow, mumbling, "Not _again_..."

Evie moved on top of Cole as soon as she saw the sword, bracing her arms over him to shield him. A flicker of blue light settled around Cole in the corner of her vision-- another unconscious barrier.

" _Stay back_ ," she snarled.

But Cole... Cole had relaxed beneath her with a tired sigh. He never flinched, never tensed, never hid. He just turned beneath her to look up at Cullen, his hair fanned across the pillow and his fingers tracing an absent pattern along her elbow.

"It's all right," he murmured, perhaps to both of them.

Cullen and Evie had both faltered.

Cole was completely unconcerned, on his back, still lying beneath her, and the sight of it-- how completely out of place it seemed-- was still stuck in her mind.

"It doesn't _do_ anything," Cole said softly, "just stops me from hiding. I'm not hiding right now. There's nothing for it to break."

Cullen shook his head. "No--! You have to be controlling her some way--" he said, but uncertainty crept into his tone.

"I'm not. She _wants_ me here." Cole gave Cullen a pained, sympathetic look. "Please. Your anger will only make her angry at you."

Evie found her voice then. "Get _out_ , Cullen," she growled.

Cullen looked between them and swallowed nervously, his confidence faltering.

"It's all right," Cole soothed, turning to her, running his arm up her side. "He was _worried_ about you. He cares abo--"

"N-no, it's fine!" Cullen interrupted. "I--" Flustered, he took a step back, bumping into the table again and making a vase wobble. He turned to leave, then remembered-- "The guards found blood in the hallways. Some Templars fled the Keep. I-I wanted to make sure you were all right. I see that you are. Good day, Inquisitor," he said in a rush, then left the room.

 

Now, days later, she feels the discomfort and shame flood back. She feels naked, she feels _judged_ \-- and what right does he have to judge her?

Did she need to _barricade_ her room now? She thought she made it clear it was _her_ space. He's the one who barged in uninvited.

He stammers and looks away-- like he caught her in some _illicit affair_. And it-- it wasn't _like_ that. Cole might look like a man, but he _isn't_ \-- she has to remind herself that he isn't. He's something else, something more. Something purer.

She _hates_ to think of Cole as something secret or taboo. Something wrong. She pictures her mother's face, hidden behind a fan, laughing about another woman's sullied virtue and her fists clench.

When the meeting finally ends, Cullen lingers behind. He opens his mouth to speak but she storms past. She can't tell if it's meant to be an accusation or an apology, but she has no interest in either.

-

Cole sulks. He was hidden, he _knows_ he was.

But the moment she sees his gift, she calls out to him in the shadows-- "Honestly, dear. One of the first things young mages are taught is _not_ to accept candy from demons."

"Maybe the world would be a lot nicer if demons would try this first," he ventures.

Vivienne scoffs, leaning back against the balcony railing. "How did you-- oh, nevermind. I don't even want to ask."

"You've always known I see sadness." He steps forward, no longer bothering to hide.

"It's not _sadness_ \--" she corrects sharply, then restrains herself. "Sadness is a story we tell ourselves, darling. It doesn't do an ounce of good. Now, did you have a purpose in bothering me here today?"

"I... wanted to give you that. And tell you to be careful around Jacques de Carreaux. His wants don't match his words."

Vivienne stops twirling the candy in her fingers abruptly, clenching it in her fist. "That's certainly more valuable than sweets. Why tell me?"

"I wanted to help. He could hurt you."

"...I never asked for your help."

"No, you didn't," he agrees. "You're waiting for it to be a trick, for me to twist it into something else. You don't really believe I would anymore, but _that's what demons do_ \--" he says it like he's reciting words spoken in a memory. "And it always starts with deals, so that's how you're being careful. Don't worry, Vivienne, I promise-- I'll never ask you for anything."

"I somehow doubt that," she says, but her tone is different, changed somehow from what it was so many times before. There's no scorn-- only a sense of tired resignation.

"I won't. I _promise_! I don't need anything from you. I only want to help."

"Hmph. ...Fine." Vivienne shrugs and turns to go inside, her dress shifting along her shoulder and glimmering in the sun. An elegant dismissal. "Do as you like."

He hesitates, but realizes that's as much as he can hope for right now. "Thank you," he says, and disappears in a swirl of shadow.

"...Foolish creature," she sighs.

She sets the candy on the table beside her armchair, between a book and a silver mirror. She stares at it far longer than she means to.

-

That afternoon, Evie snatches a muffin and to eat as she runs up the stairs to her quarters. She feels _exhausted_. Her neck aches and her feet are tired, but she can almost feel the tension unspiral the closer she gets to her room.

She gets to see Cole soon.

They've been meeting every day at this time, under the pretense of changing his bandages. It's becoming a bit silly how much she looks forward to it.

There's just something _different_ about actually scheduling time together. Like the time is somehow more hers to cherish-- not just a coincidence, but a _choice_.

Cole has never been punctual, of course, but Josephine's trick works; Evie will sit on the couch, perhaps reading as she waits, all the while thinking insistently-- and _loudly_ , if thoughts can be loud-- that he should come see her when he's done so she can tend to him.

And it's never long before he appears. It's... oddly reassuring.

Today she's surprised to find him already waiting for her. He's sitting on the ground at the edge of the balcony, forehead pressed to the stone rail, legs linked through the gaps, feet kicking. His hat sits on the ground beside him.

"You're noisy today," he says by way of greeting, tilting his head back to see her.

"Oh. Um, ...sorry?" She isn't sure how to respond.

Nervously, she gathers the salve and fresh bandages and takes her spot on the sofa, feeling his eyes on her.

After she sits, he appears cross-legged beside her in a lazy swirl of shadow. He takes her hand and pulls it toward him.

"Hello," he says, his thumb running across her palm. His eyes look down, off to the side, but she can see the blue of them, under his pale eyelashes.

Her heart thumps. She scoots closer, so their knees touch. "Hello. How has your day been?"

"The stablehand's mabari died."

"Oh. That's terrible." She's never had a mabari, but she's heard how strong those bonds are. She bites her lip. "...What can you even _do_ for that?"

"Help him think of comfort," he shrugs softly. "There was a soup his mother made him as a child." His fingers, in his ratty gloves, trace along her palm and up her forearm. Absent, swirling patterns.

She's struck yet again by how precious Cole is. How important his work is. It's a feeling so vast she feels dwarfed beside it. He's _there_ \-- kindness in your weakest moment, help when you need it most. He's _everything_.

She shakes herself, realizing he's watching her. Pulling her hand away, she uncaps the jar of salve.

She reaches for the edge of his shirt, motioning to Cole to hold it up so she can reach the wound. Gently, she peels away the old bandage. She's careful, _so careful_. Her eyes never stray from her task. (She tries not to let it remind her of-- _no, she won't think about that_ \--)

His wound is almost completely gone, nothing left but a thin pink line. She's no expert, but she suspects Cole heals much faster than a normal human.

She rubs a new layer of salve along the cut, then covers it with a fresh bandage. It won't be more than a few days before his wound has disappeared completely. She bites her lip.

Cole lowers his shirt for her, carefully lifting it over the bandage before letting it settle. He watches her a moment, then reaches under the sofa for a hidden book.

"What's this?" she asks as he hands it to her, but the recognizes it as the rift magic book Dorian gave her. He wants her to read it?

Cole doesn't reply, just turns and slouches sideways, pulling her back against the sofa and settling against her. He hugs her gently and rests his head on her shoulder, closing his eyes.

This is quite possibly her favorite part of their odd new ritual-- when they sit together, sometimes talking, sometimes reading, sometimes just listening to the wind.

She opens the book with one hand and drapes her other arm over Cole's back. She has to reach forward to turn the pages, but she always returns to curl her fingers in his hair. He _hums_ in contentment.

She sees Sera's scribbles on the first few pages and lets out a startled laugh. She bites her lip, trying not to jostle Cole, but he just nuzzles his face into her shoulder and mumbles, " _Much_ better."

A suspicion dawns on her. "You got Sera to draw these, didn't you?" she mutters, but Cole stays silent. "Who am I kidding? Of course you did." She kisses his hair with a laugh and whispers, " _Thank you_." He huffs, a warm exhale against her neck, and curls closer.

She flips through the pages, spirits light, smiling at Sera's illustrations while also reading the magical theory. Cole is warm and heavy, and there is nowhere else she'd rather be.

After a while, her mind starts to drift and she thinks absently-- he seems to be leaning on her more often lately. She wonders if the healing process tires him? She closes her eyes and listens to his breathing, slow and heavy--

"Wait, Cole--!" She's struck with a sudden panic. "Don't fall asleep without me--!" Sleeping alone frightened him so much the last time in Crestwood. She doesn't want him to him go through that again--

Cole groans as she tugs him to sit up. "I'm not _sleeping_ ," he protests. "I don't have to unless I'm very hurt."

"But you--"

" _Much_ more hurt than this," he says. He ignores her pushing and tries to slip past her arms to curl back into her embrace.

She makes a helpless noise and gives up. Cole tucks himself against her side and sighs, content.

"You still sound drowsy..."

"I am _well_ ," he murmurs. "I like listening, leaning on you. My mind flies ahead, darting like a bird, and my body curls, safe and happy and warm. A nest to return to."

She blushes and sets her arm over his back, straightening the folds in his tunic. "I'm not... distracting you?"

"No," he says, his voice muffled by her shirt. "Your thoughts are content now. No sharp edges to catch on. They echo mine, buoy us both. Call me home when I go too far."

"Oh." He was just listening? He didn't need to sleep?

An embarrassing thought occurs to her.

"I-I thought that was why you were staying the night." She gives a weak laugh, feeling foolish. "Nevermind."

He lifts his head to look at her and she turns away, embarrassed.

"I mean-- I thought... I thought you needed to dream with me, so you wouldn't be scared. I thought I was protecting you." It sounds ridiculous, now that she says it out loud.

"Did you have to be?" he asks.

"No! I-I mean-- I'm not-- I just don't understand why you'd want to stay the night. It seems awfully boring, if you don't need to sleep." She bites her lip. "You aren't doing it just for me, are you?" she asks, her voice small. "Y-you don't need to. You shouldn't."

Cole frowns, his lips pressed together. He sits back, leaning sideways against the sofa to watch her, his arm still looped over her waist.

"I _like_ to be near you," he says after a moment. "I like when you hold me. I like to feel safe, comforted, _loved_ \--"

She feels her breath catch at that, startled by his honesty. She stares at his collar, finding it hard to meet his eyes.

"Evie..." Cole struggles with what to say next.

Abruptly, he grabs her hand and presses it against his chest.

"T-The part of me that is borrowed has a hole, a hollow. Hidden and hard to see, full of sharp edges and gnashing teeth. It was there so long I forgot. When you hold me, it fills in, heals over. I feel fresh and fearless. No more fractures."

"Oh." _Oh_ \--! Her eyes widen.

Cole was touch-starved. That made sense.

She scrambles, setting her book down and reaching for him with both hands. "How long did you go in the Spire without anyone to hug you, Cole? No, wait-- don't answer. It's all right."

She loops her arms up over his shoulders, pulling him closer-- a full embrace. He sighs against her neck and melts into her, tension draining back out of him.

Together, they fall back against the sofa, her head bumping against the armrest. Cole sprawls on top of her and she clutches him tightly.

"You're Compassion," she says, pressing her cheek into his hair. "Of course you would need this."

" _No_ ," he grumbles into her shoulder, fingers tightening in her shirt. "That's _wrong_. Compassion needs nothing. It was always Cole." He makes a frustrated noise, turning his head against her. "But-- I-I don't like to think in pieces. I'm both, a balance. _Me_ , however I was made. _Please understand_ , Evie."

She squeezes him tighter. Her voice feels stuck in her throat. "You can come to me anytime for a hug, Cole. _Always_. You don't need any other reason. You don't have to stay the night, you don't have to pretend to sleep just to be held. You're always welcome. And you can leave when you wish, too."

He lifts his head up to look at her, his chin resting by her collarbone.

"I _like_ sleeping beside you," he says stubbornly. "It comforts you, too."

"I don't--"

"You don't like to need, I know," he interrupts, rolling his eyes slightly.

Evie huffs, surprised by his attitude. "I'm--I'm not about to make you schedule your day around giving me a _hug_."

"But you would do that for me, wouldn't you?"

"I--"

"Why is it so different?"

Evie frowns and shifts beneath him. "I-It isn't--"

He leans up, putting his weight on one elbow so he can look down at her properly. He reaches his other hand up to trace his fingertips along her cheek. "I _want_ to watch over your sleep. I want to help hide you from demons. It's _dangerous_ ," he says, worried. "You should be more careful."

It's her turn to roll her eyes at that. "I _am_ careful. I keep an eye out for them. I've made it this far, haven't I?"

"If they see you-- _really_ see you, Evie... they won't let you go."

"I'm _fine_ , Cole."

"No, you're fortunate. It isn't the same."

He stares at her intently, and she squirms, realizing their positions. His face is inches above hers, his hand caressing her cheek. They look like--

She remembers Cullen, and his talk of scouts watching her balcony, and _oh, Maker_ \-- She flushes, pushing Cole back to sit up. "I-- we should probably--"

Cole sighs and lets her push him. "Yes... it's time to go back." He makes it sound dreadful.

She bites her lip. "Cole, I..." She fumbles, words escaping her. She doesn't want to leave it at that.

Cole reaches over and calmly, delicately tucks her hair behind her ear. "You're _safe_ here," he says, pleading with her to understand.

She falters. That's such a _Cole_ thing to say. Unexpected, yet utterly sincere. She takes a slow breath and shakes her head. "You... you are, too, you know."

He smiles. "Yes. I'm beginning to feel it."

-

When they part ways, he stays on her mind. She thinks about living life without the pull of sleep. She thinks about wandering through anyone's dreams but your own.

It's hard for her to think about-- Cole's time in the Spire. It's hard to picture. It was such a long time. She's not sure if she imagines it worse or better than it was.

It sounds like a nightmare.

Not the heart-pounding, chased by a shape in the dark nightmares. The other kind. The kind you don't realize are nightmares until you wake up. The ones that feel _broken_ and _wrong_ , but you sink into them and forget the world could be any other way.

Darkness in the hallways, voices muffled and trapped. Echoing footsteps you can't place. Sadness deep inside the walls, so old it's seeped into the stone. Hope feels like a birdsong from the depths, fragile and echoing and so faint it might not be real at all.

You try to focus on small, bright things to stay sane. Collect them like a magpie. Trinkets and toys stacked on a shelf. Tiny habits and rituals that make you smile. Every small indulgence you can find. And the whole time, darkness looms around you like a shroud, waiting to steal your breath away. You forget what sunlight is like.

She's had those dreams. Just echoes in the Fade.

She'll never let him go back there, she thinks viciously. Cole belongs in the sun.

-

Evie searches for Blackwall later. Josephine mentioned that she needs a report for the Caer Oswin mission signed, and she's been so busy lately-- it seemed like a small thing Evie could do to help.

Honestly, when she isn't closing rifts, she feels a bit... unnecessary.

Evie finds Blackwall in the stables, sanding a wooden duck.

He follows her eyes and grunts. "Don't ask."

"Cole?" she smiles.

Blackwall gives a put-upon sigh. "Yes, _Cole_." He dusts the toy off. "It's about done anyway. You might as well take it to him."

She shifts papers around in her hand and takes the duck, clutching it to her chest. "Y-you need to sign this--" she says, fumbling.

Blackwall makes a disgusted noise.

"Josephine's already written it up for you. It just needs a signature. And make sure there's nothing else to add."

"Bloody _paperwork_..." Blackwall snatches the documents and slaps them onto the sawdust-covered table, looking around for a pen before seeing the one Evie has pulled from her pocket to offer him.

Just as he's about to hand the papers back, the door bursts open and Josephine rushes in. She stops abruptly when she sees them, her skirts swirling around her. "Ser Blackwall," she curtsies smoothly.

"L-Lady Josephine," he responds, standing up straight.

"I told you _I'd_ help with this..." Evie says to Josephine, sounding a bit like a whine.

"I know, dear," Josephine says stiffly. "Something more important has come up. Tell me, did you forget that your family was coming?"

"What? No. Why?" Evie's mind processes the information slowly. "Wait, _they're here?_ "

"They just arrived. Some guards are helping them unpack the carriages."

"My _family_ ," Evie repeats dumbly. "Are you sure?"

"Yes, dear," Josephine says. "They insisted you had received their letters."

"Why would they come _here_?" There must be some mistake. Evie feels ten steps behind in this conversation. Her _family_?

"It appears that your brother is a mage. He requires magical instruction and this was the safest place for him."

 " _What?_ " That-- Evie needs to sit down. Trevor? A mage? Her heart clenches. This isn't good. This isn't good at all.

Josephine sighs, seeing her distress. She touches her arm. "It will be fine, dear. We will make this work. But I'm going to need your help."

Evie nods numbly.

"I'll see to the living accommodations, the serving staff, the carriages, and dinner. I just need you to keep them busy. Can you give them a tour?"

Evie nods again, a feeling of cold resignation creeping in.

"Good." Josephine looks her over with a frown. "...It would probably be best if you didn't take that with you," she adds, gesturing at the wooden duck Evie is clutching to her chest.

"What?" Evie looks down. "Oh, r-right."

"Cole?" Josephine asks with amusement.

"Yes. _Cole_." Evie sighs wistfully and hands the duck over, brushing sawdust off her shirt.

"I'll see that it gets to him," Josephine nods. "Now go stall your family, please."

-

Cole catches her as she tromps through the damp grass towards the gate. There's a splash and suddenly he's standing beside her, a squirming fennec in his hands, nipping at his fingers.

"Evie, you--" he starts to say as he struggles with the wild animal.

She gapes, wide-eyed, then realizes he must have been in the middle of something else. Somehow she called him here.

"I'm all right," she says quickly.

"You don't _sound_ right--"

Maybe she doesn't quite feel herself, but she feels strong. She isn't worried. A cold numbness has settled over her. An icy feeling, but familiar somehow. Like old armor.

She's seeing her family again.

"I don't need you here," she says firmly. "Not for this. You should go back to what you were doing." He came to her rescue once before, when the mages from her Tower arrived. This is different. She knows how to handle this. Cole doesn't. Cole _shouldn't_.

He watches her, a stubborn frown on his face as he struggles to hold the animal in his arms. It kicks and bites at him, but he doesn't seem to notice.

" _Please_ , Cole," she adds softly.

She promised herself once that she wouldn't hurt him. She won't let him close to people who have hurt her. She won't be someone who is helpless, who sucks up all the kindness of others, someone who needs to be rescued. She won't pull him away from his purpose.

If she can't handle this alone then she doesn't deserve him.

"You're thinking _wrong_ ," he grumbles, but between one moment and the next, he's gone.

-

"You look dreadful, darling!" her mother calls, catching Evie by the shoulders and kissing her cheeks, then pulling back to inspect her outfit.

Evie absently notes the mud on her boots and tries to straighten her hair from the wind.

"Is this what they have you wearing? It's ungodly!"

"Hello, Mother," Evie says. "How was your trip?"

Her mother lets out a helpless sigh. "It would have been better if we had been accompanied by some of the _hundreds_ of soldiers you have milling about, but it's all right-- I understand, you're quite busy now. It can be hard to make time for family."

Evie ignores the bait. Her mother looks well-- not a hair out of place, as always. It's as if the wind itself would rather avoid her. Her hat, coat, and gloves all match the exact shade of green as her luggage.

"Is Trevor all right?" Evie asks.

"He's fine. No idea where he's off to. That boy--"

"Hullo," comes a voice from behind them.

Evie turns and almost doesn't recognize her brother. He's so much taller since her last visit home from Ostwick.

Golden hair and freckles, eleven years old. He eyes her warily.

"...Nice castle," he says.

"So you're a mage then?" she asks.

"Apparently," he rolls his eyes, and suddenly it's like they've fallen back into their old routines, siblings instead of strangers, bickering over the winter holidays.

"That old armchair in the study caught fire," Trevor complains. "I wasn't even near it!"

Evie smiles, moving toward him.

"Can I see it?" her brother asks abruptly, reaching for her hand. She turns her palm, showing him the mark. "Were you really sent by Andraste?"

Evie scoffs. "No, I--"

"Oh, sorry, am I _dismissed_ now?" her mother asks from behind them. "I only spent days traveling to see my only daughter."

Her brother gives her a long-suffering look, then runs away, disappearing around the carriage. Evie turns, feeling her mask slip back into place.

"Bit late for him to show magic, isn't it?" she asks idly.

"You weren't much younger. Magic just isn't particularly strong in our family, I suppose."

Evie sighs. "Papa's traveling?"

"Of course. His business is important."

"Of course," Evie echoes.

Her eyes catch movement off to the left and Evie freezes, seeing a figure step out from behind the second carriage.

"Hello, grandmother," she says politely.

Her grandmother looks her over, her face severe and unreadable. Evie feels like a child again, frozen with irrational terror. She holds her breath, then finally her grandmother's gaze turns away, ignoring her. As she walks away Evie feels a wave of relief.

Her mother, who fell silent as well, acts like nothing happened. She says brightly, "There's to be a dinner tonight. I assumed you had nothing _proper_ to wear so I had one of your soldiers help me unpack some dresses--"

Evie sighs. She can endure this.

-

Hurts call to Cole differently. They always have, each in a different voice-- echoing and overlapping endlessly.

Some are easy and obvious. Others... he doesn't always recognize right away. He might not have thought they were hurts before.

He's learning, though.

Blackwall's hurts sound like children's laughter.

Sera's hurts are angry and sudden. They snap like sticks, sharp and stinging, then skip away like stones over water.

Dorian's hurts are loud, his own voice echoing in his mind, screaming, swearing, beating against the walls and berating himself. _You do this every time. Haven't you learned by now?_

Varric hides his hurts, but his characters reveal them. They whisper secrets, spill his pain onto the page when he isn't looking. When Varric catches them, he puts the pen down and reaches for alcohol instead, to silence everything the same, but Cole hears the stories buried between the lines. Bertrand. _Bianca_.

Cassandra's oldest hurt thrums in the background of everything she does. Cole hears it like a heartbeat: a step, a shout, a thump. It's caught in her steel focus, a single moment clutched tight like meditation. Step, shout, thump. Step, shout, thump. After a time you could almost mistake it for a comfort. It's too close for him to pull away, but he thinks maybe he can drown it out sometimes.

The Iron Bull has strange hurts, foreign to Cole, like there's another mind in his, watching. A thousand voices churning like a hive, yet never speaking at all. Only one hurt echoes loudly, one mistake-- the one the Qun punished him for. It looms above him like a statue, shadowing him always, engraved for all to see. He bears it willingly. The rest, the others... are there others? Cole can't tell. They flit away like birds. Like voices calling your name in a crowd and you turn and-- there's no one. Was it only imagined?

Solas is quiet. The kind of quiet that pulls you closer. When Cole is near him, he can close his eyes and hear the _hssss_ of wind over grass-- great swaying fields of it. Valleys stretched between cliffs, the sky so wide you could fall in. There are voices in the distance, but he can't make out the words. Perhaps they're in a language he doesn't know, a language no one knows anymore. He tries to get closer to listen, but Solas always catches him, fills the valley with a rushing fog until Cole can't find his way through. _Leave that be, Cole_ , comes a voice, and then only whiteness.

Vivienne's hurts are dissonant, their pitches changed just slightly. It confused Cole at first, he tried to tug her hurts loose but she held onto them so _tightly_. Now he understands why-- she made them her own, molded them like armor. A violent, glimmering mask to strike fear in others. _Mage_ , the voices whisper, and Vivienne agrees. Yes, she is a mage-- and that makes her powerful. _Cruel_ , they whisper. Yes, Vivienne smiles, and anoints herself with Iron. _Villain_ , Varric confesses, and she laughs. Then she will be the best, most terrifying villain they have ever seen. Vivienne doesn't want protection, she doesn't want comfort. There's nothing she will let him to take from her, her pains are _hers_. But he hopes, perhaps, she might want a friend.

And Evie, oh _Evie_ \-- she keeps her hurts buried deep, down twisting hallways and spiraling staircases, lost to the stone and the dark. He might never have heard them if he didn't stay so close, always. She is guarded, hiding behind cold eyes and set shoulders. She tells herself she needs nothing, but he hears her now, like a whisper beside him, like a child stepping from the shadows, clutching his hand. It begs him, _Please, don't leave me here alone_ , in a sad voice that already knows the answer.

He wants to find that little girl in the Fade and hold her close. Bury her in his arms where the world can't see. Hold her until she becomes big again, until she rolls over, yawning into the blankets, sees him and smiles. _You're still here_ , she'll say, and he'll answer, _Always_.

He aches for the day when she _believes_ him.

Cole paces along the rooftops. He's not even _hiding_ \-- no one looks up. He feels restless, prowling like a caged beast, lashing out like the fennec with the broken leg that he entrusted to the grieving stablehand.

His breathing is louder than it usually is, and he fights to calm it, to listen-- he has to _listen_ \--

He watches her down below, follows where they walk. He sees _Evie_ , but he also sees the child standing in her place. She's small and afraid, and _so sure_ that she's alone.

She told him to stay away. She _wants_ him to stay away. But that isn't what she _needs_ right now.

Sometimes to help the hurts you have to be brave.

-

Evie counts.

It's a game she used to play sometimes. She counts the time between when she gets a word in edgewise. Her mother talks of parties and of nobles, of gossip and of the wood floors she just had redone in the parlour.

Evie is past 500, and it's doing little to distract her from squirming in her dress, the uncomfortable lace itching at her skin.

It's a beautiful dress, to be fair-- pale blue and pink, with delicate lace over her shoulders, but it doesn't feel like _her_ \--

"--don't you agree, dear?" she hears her mother say.

"Yes, of course," Evie says automatically, with no idea what she's agreeing to, and then her mother's off again.

Evie starts back at one.

 

They walk down to the entry hall to see nobles filtering into a private dining room Josephine had prepared. There are some familiar faces, all the "respectable" names of Skyhold--

And yet somehow, Varric. He grins at Evie and waves.

She spots Vivienne above them, reading in a grand chair on her balcony.

Her mother stops, momentarily distracted by another conversation, interceding with advice on _upholstery_ of all things, and Evie wanders away.

"You're not going?" she calls up to Vivienne.

Vivienne looks over the edge of the railing, raising an eyebrow. "No, dear."

Vivienne acts like she wishes to ignore her. Her mother will notice her absence soon. There's absolutely no reason for Evie to press this, and yet-- she finds herself curious.

"Why not?" she asks.

Vivienne sighs. Her eyes flick to the nobles on the other side of the hall, then look down at Evie. She measures her voice carefully so it doesn't travel farther than she means.

"That daft woman seems to think that because of her relation to you, she can insist I attend her dinner. I was First Enchanter to the _Empress_ \-- I am not at _your_ beck and call, let alone hers."

So she sits here reading, Evie realizes. She moved her chair closer to the railing to be more visible. To make more of a statement. Evie grins without meaning to.

She turns to leave, her question answered, but Vivienne stops her--

"You shouldn't have worn the dress, darling," she calls, not looking up from her book. "Sometimes power only exists where you choose to concede it."

-

It's been ages, but Evie still remembers the rules to these games.

They mill about near the dining room like cattle. Trays of drinks go by, and a buffet in the corner is laid out with exotic appetizers. Now is the time for attendees to mingle and attempt to secure the most beneficial seating arrangement.

Evie has always hated seeing the hungry eyes and false smiles this ritual inspires. Before, she would try to find a quiet place at the edges. She was always the _mage_ in the family before-- finding solitude during strange winter parties was never a challenge.

Now everyone circles _her_ , venturing as close as they dare and vying for a place. Her seat is predetermined-- the center of the table-- meaning social value tonight may be empirically measured by the distance from her chair.

The crowd shapes itself around her as she walks. Her mother stands beside her, fending off the swarm with a gleeful grin. _She must love this_ , Evie thinks miserably.

Her mother leans on her and laughs, petting her fingers though Evie's hair, her sharp nails catching against Evie's scalp. Evie shrugs her off a bit too noticeably, causing an awkward pause in her mother's conversation.

"Goodness," her mother laughs. "What did I do to deserve such a cold daughter?" She puts a hand to her chest theatrically, directing the question towards a man Evie barely recognizes as one of Josephine's diplomatic contacts.

The man falters, fear in his eyes. He knows there are no right answers to questions like that. Evie raises an eyebrow, watching with morbid curiosity as the wheels turn in his mind.

"I-I heard the Inquisitor is a powerful frost mage, one of the best of our time. May we all count ourselves fortunate for her frigid strength," he says with a shaking voice.

Her mother frowns. "That's a bit... _barbaric_ for dinnertime conversation."

Evie looks away, feeling sick as well, but more for the fact that they think her powerful when she's only barely average. What rumors were circulating about her now?

Maker, what a lie she lives.

It just reminds her-- she isn't _Evie_ to any of these people. She isn't real to them. She's just a title.

Though-- perhaps not _all_ of them, she thinks, as Varric catches her eye.

"Hey there, Snowflake. How're you holding up?" Varric asks, pulling her aside near a tray that has what look like tiny sausages.

"I'm fine," she says. She uses the moment away from her mother to adjust the irritating lace on her shoulder.

"You know, for a minute I really was delighted you and the kid were reading my romance," Varric teases. "Guess not, though, huh?"

"I'm sorry I lied to you."

"Tch. It's a shame you're not a fan!"

Evie shifts awkwardly. "It's not that I don't _like_ your stories... I've just never read them before. It... wasn't the place for it," she tries, fumbling for the right words.

"The place? Your Tower, you mean?"

"I read stories as a child, when I first arrived at Ostwick. Fairy tales. I stopped, though."

"Why?"

"Because... I could shut myself in my room, and try to run away in a book, but what laid outside my door stayed the same. It would always be the same. Maker, if I hid away, it could fall apart, be even worse," she sighs. "Stories are for when you're safe. When there's danger, you can't bury your head in the sand."

Varric smiles gently. "Everyone needs an escape now and then, Snowflake. Even you. I'll send you a collection of my books so you can read them when you're ready. How's that?"

"Thank you, Varric."

He watches her a long moment and she starts to feel nervous, remembering his gaze from that morning.

He pitied her for stealing food, and now he gets to see her dressed up like a doll, paraded around by her mother. She's not sure how much more shame she can take. She may never leave her room after this.

"I can't wait to see what kind of story they tell about you," he says abruptly. "Maybe I'll even be the one to write it one day."

She gives a rough laugh, caught off-guard. "You'd better not."

"It'd be a good story! _The Impossible Inquisitor_. Stepped out of the Fade, escaped Haven--"

"Went to a terrible ball once, made occasional dull speeches--"

"Fought a dragon," Varric says, eyes twinkling.

"--barely!" she scoffs.

She can't help but smile though, for a moment. Then her face falls.

"I'm not invincible, Varric," she says seriously. "Just lucky."

She's on borrowed time, really. She only hopes she has enough time left to make a difference, to set things right. _To save everyone_ , she thinks, and feels foolish for thinking it. But still...

It puts things into perspective. Makes them easier to endure. How bad is one pointless dinner party, beneath the shadow of Corypheus?

This is just one night. Her mother can't follow her every moment at Skyhold. Perhaps there will be more parties, now that she's arrived, but... it isn't worth the fight. How would it look, if the Inquisitor threw a tantrum when she saw her family? She would come off the worse for it, that's for sure. She always did.

And what about her brother? It made sense to bring him here. She would talk to the Archivist tomorrow-- Trevor could learn magic from the Ostwick mages, free from Templar rule. He would _never_ see the inside of a Tower. She had to keep him here, and that meant placating her mother.

Just because you hate the games doesn't mean you can't be forced to play them. She's had enough things blow up in her face to know the consequences of playing poorly, or trying not to play at all.

"Oh, sweetheart-- he's here, isn't he?" her mother asks suddenly, grabbing her arm.

Varric gives her a little wave and goes off to talk with someone else.

"Who?" Evie wonders.

"The one you went with to Halamshiral--" her mother whispers and Evie freezes.

_Cole_?

"--and he's a general! Little birds were all a-twitter, you two left the Winter Palace in a carriage together!"

Oh. Evie's heart sinks. She means _Cullen_. "That wasn't-- I mean, he was there, but I was with--"

Her mother wraps her arm around Evie's hip and she wants to squirm away.

"Is he unattached?" her mother asks. "A general is quite impressive, darling. And he's _quite_ handsome--"

"He's also a Templar, Mother," Evie deflects.

"All the better, in case you become a... what was it? An abomination?" Evie recoils at that, at the cavalier way her mother speaks of it.

She would rather become an abomination than be married to Cullen, she thinks viciously, _hating_ the future her mother envisions.

_This was fine_ , Evie reminds herself. _None of this matters_. She forces a polite smile when her mother looks at her, then changes the topic to fashion and lets her mother talk.

 

A bell rings and they're led to the dining room. Evie stops dead.

Cole is here.

He's claimed the seat next to hers, wearing the bright red uniform he wore to Halamshiral. His posture is stiff, staring straight ahead, fists clenched on the table.

It's obvious he has no intention of moving.

She hears others whisper curiously. Josephine quietly orders one more chair to be brought in.

Cole says nothing to her as she sits, but he pulls her hand beneath the table and grasps it tightly. Her mother talks and talks and never seems to notice Cole's presence, though Cassandra and Varric keep glancing at him throughout the dinner.

Evie realizes he's deliberately staying forgotten.

Evie squeezes his hand, not inclined to say anything at all. A greedy part of her _likes_ that Cole is hers, and not something her mother can tarnish.

"--I've spoken to Josephine, she's a dear. She says we can have them brought here immediately. Did you see the fashions in Celene's court this season? Inlaid gems! You would look stunning in diamonds--"

As her mother has more wine, she gets louder and more jovial, as if the entire table is there for _her_. She tells stories Evie's heard a dozen times before, about parties she's held and people she's met.

With her free hand, Evie spins her finger over her water absently, making ice, until her mother swats her arm.

Evie jumps, startled.

"You shouldn't be so obvious about the magic, darling," her mother whispers. "It will make people uncomfortable."

"Yes, Mother."

Cole turns his head and makes a small noise in his throat, a helpless noise like a whimper.

_It's fine_ , she thinks. _None of this matters_.

Evie sinks back in her chair, staring down. The talking and noise become a blur of sound that she doesn't bother to parse. Her thoughts drift--

"Don't slouch," her mother scolds, elbowing her.

Evie straightens. She stares ahead into the tablecloth and simply waits for it to be over.

She feels the air shift beside her and Cole disappears between one moment and the next. She spins to look for him and feels, of all things, a moment of profound grief.

_It's for the best_ , she tells herself. It was kind of him to stay as long as he did. It couldn't have been easy for him.

She sinks back into her chair and knots her fingers together under the table, and tries to think about something else, or think of nothing at all.

 

An eternity passes and she feels someone grab her arm.

She turns to see Cole. His boots and armor are on, daggers strapped to his back. He's carrying her pack over his shoulder, along with his own.

"What...?"

Her mother sees him, too. Her lip curls. "Excuse me, young man-- you have no right to just barge in here--"

Cole ignores her and pulls Evie away. "We need to leave," he says urgently.

"What's wrong?" Evie stands, scurrying to follow.

"You're crying inside, but you just can't hear it. Your heart wants to run--"

Evie frowns, pulling back. "I don't--"

Cole clenches his jaw. "We need to go to the Exalted Plains. Cassandra says there are people there to help. She says we need to help them."

"She does?" Evie tries to look back at Cassandra, but Cole catches her wrist.

"The Inquisition does. _Someone_ does. It should be us."

Her mother stands, throwing her napkin down and approaching them. "Don't _ignore_ me. I'm speaking to you--"

Cole raises his hand. " _Forget_ ," he says harshly, right in front of everyone. A bright glow overtakes her mother's face, her expression going blank.

Cullen leaps to his feet, banging his knee on the table and rattling the plates, but Cassandra grabs his arm.

"What's wrong?" she asks sharply.

"Calm yourself, Cassandra," Josephine says, walking around the table to them.

Evie hesitates. "I..."

"You _want_ to," Cole says, frustrated. He reaches down and tugs the edge of her dress, swirling the folds. "You like the dresses that are long, so you can wear boots underneath and tell yourself you might leave. _So let's leave_."

She _does_ want to. So badly, but...

"Just for now?" she asks him, her voice small.

"For now," he agrees, stepping closer.

"I... I have to change."

"I brought your armor."

She swallows and nods. She has to be quick, before she changes her mind.

"We're going on a mission," she says over her shoulder, voice shaking and her eyes never leaving Cole's. "Tonight."

She doesn't know what else to say, doesn't expect anyone to accept that answer... but Josephine is very, very good at reading people. She walks toward them, squeezes Cole's upper arm gently, then leans in and wraps Evie in a tight hug.

"Be safe, dear. I will have accommodations settled by the time you get back. With... better boundaries," she says tactfully.

_Maker_ , Josephine is wonderful.

Cassandra hesitates. "It's dangerous for just the two of you. Do you need anyone else--"

"I'll go," Varric volunteers. "Could use some fresh air," he says with a shrug.

Cassandra turns to him and Varric winks.

"I'll look after them, Seeker. I promise."

"I've asked the others also," Cole says. "Don't worry, Cassandra, we won't be alone."

"Very well, then."

-

Four hours into their trek, Evie realizes that Cole is simultaneously perfect and absolute rubbish at packing.

There are two brushes, because he likes brushing her hair, her softest pajamas, and her favorite blanket. He's forgotten clean underwear entirely.

The clinking noise she heard was a carrying case with six kinds of charcoal, packed neatly beside her sketchbook.

There's also the book with Sera's drawings and a chapter of Swords and Shields that clearly belongs to someone else, its pages bent and worn. ( _"I like that one,"_ Cole whispers. _"It's warm."_ )

Then there's the jar of healing salve and bandages (thank heavens), some rations, two pastries wrapped in napkins (with crumbs tumbling everywhere), and what looks to be a stuffed nug with wings.

The bottom two inches of her pack is filled with nothing but candy.

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I've rewritten this so many times I can't tell if it's good or bad anymore. I apologize for so much setup. I cut like six scenes but it still drags. I'm just calling it done so we can move on to better stuff. 
> 
> Chapter 13 is one last outing before everything goes to shit. Chapter 14 is Adamant.


End file.
